Fate of the Undead
by Despicable-D
Summary: The Dark Lord has risen and Lordran has descended into a war for superiority. Undead heroes, long dead, find themselves once again in the land of lords as pawns for the Gods power struggle. Velka vs Gwyndolyn and the remaining gods with the victor planning to overthrow the silent Dark Lord. Can the actions of a few Undead turn the tides? NPC centric story, OC Chosen Undead.
1. Awakening Part 1

**Greetings ladies and gentlemen and esteemed peers! This could be considered my third project and it's an idea I've been mulling over for a while as a Dark Souls adventure/fantasy story in the style of the popular Fantasy novels we all read today. I'll give more detail to the story at the end of this chapter but for now, let's dive on in!**

 **Chapter 1: Awakening**

 _In the Age of Ancients the world was unformed, shrouded by fog. A land of gray crags, Archtrees and Everlasting Dragons. But then there was fire and with fire came disparity. Heat and Cold, Life and Death, and of course, Light and Dark._

 _Thus began the Age of Fire. But soon the Flames will fade and only Dark will remain. Even now there are only embers, and man sees not light, but only endless night. And amongst the living are seen, carriers of the accursed Dark Sign._

 _The Dark Sign brands the Undead. And in this land, the Undead are corralled and led to the North, where they are locked away, to await the end of the world._

 _Only in the ancient legends is it stated, that one day an Undead shall be chosen to leave the undead asylum in pilgrimage, to the lands of the ancient lords, Lordran._

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 _ **Crash!**_

A simple yet cruel trap, intended for the lone coherent occupant of this Asylum filled to the brim with snarling, unfeeling creatures known as Hollows, undead who have long forgotten their true selves. Though the trap failed in its intended purpose it had; in its path of destruction, reveal a long forgotten cell.

A rectangular room made of brick that had long fallen into disrepair by its dismissive builders with years of rain fall and run off having filled the room in an ankle deep pool of water. Until recently, the cell had been empty, now a lone knight, regally clad in silver armor and his sword and shield not far from his side, has found his final rest in this lonely prison sitting upon a bed of shattered brick and rubble.

'By the gods, it hurts.' He thought tiredly as he starred upward to the hole in the ceiling he had come from. The very spot where that accursed demon had ambushed him. 'It seems this is as far as my journey takes me. Not even in Lordran. Ha! It's almost laughable.'

The young knight was a firm believer in destiny. He believed the old tales of great and powerful lords that lit the flames that began the glorious age he had been born to. Just as he also believed in the prophecies. Prophecies that undead, like he, would one day travel to the land of those Great lords and one of them would be chosen and be privy to a destiny beyond his meager imagination. It was his desire to see the prophecy fulfilled, even if not by his hands. So he set about systematically releasing the undead locked within this accursed Asylum in hopes to find the "Chosen Undead" but as he searched all he found were mindless hollows. Just as he had given up hope to find a single sane occupant within this hellhole, did he hear great stomping footsteps and a massive shadow fall upon him. He had only managed to draw his sword and ready his shield before the demon's hammer come crashing down, momentarily turning his entire world black.

Now here he lay, body broken, insides crushed and his will fading with his life. In the end, his goal appeared to be eternally out of his reach and a failures death would be his legacy.

 _ **Rustle…splash!**_

The knight turned his head to the side at last. Though obscured by the meager sight provided by his helmet, he knew he was no longer alone. Another undead had wandered into his cell, most likely through that massive hole he had been too lost in thought to notice or care about, and was lingering within the doorway and only starring at him, for now. On first inspection, he noticed this Undead to be far better equipped than the rag covered hollows he had released to run amok in the crumbling prison.

He wore a form fitting type of coat that appeared to be made of sturdy looking leather and quilting with matching manchettes, pants and boots. The coat was outfitted with a dark hood that hid the undead's face. Equipped to both sides of the undead's belt, were a pair of long curved blades held in their black sheathes, an impressive commodity considering the most he'd seen the hollows around here carry were broken and dulled blades or worse, just the handles of broken swords.

'So, it seems I am to die by the hands of these wretches.' The knight pondered. 'No worse than drowning in my own blood I suppose.' He would accept his fate. Failure or no, he would not die sniveling and crawling on his hands like a frightened infant. These dregs wouldn't have cared anyway. 'Get on with it then!'

Just then, the sound of stumbling footsteps could be heard and a guttural moan that the knight knew all too well. Yet another undead had come toward the cell, broken blade in hand it howled and charged the hooded hollow as it had hits back turned.

 _ **Shing!**_

In a flurry of movement unbeffiting a soulless corpse, the hooded figure stepped backward, unsheathing its dual scimitars while letting the less coordinated hollow's swing go wide and hit nothing but open air. The hollow recovered from its failed swing and rushed forward again, its tactics unchanged. The hooded undead did not move away this time as it held its blades at the ready. In the instant the ragged hollow brought its weapon down in a stumbling but still powerful downward slash, the hooded undead caught the hollows clumsy attack on the side of its left blade, dexterously twisting and parrying the weapon aside and leaving the hollow momentarily defenseless, which the undead took advantage of. The undead swiftly dashed in, turned on the ends of its heels, twisting around and slicing the hollows head from its neck, cleanly and quickly. The sudden action had disturbed the placement of the undead's hood, causing it to fall back and reveal its owners face for the knight to finally see.

Jet black hair pulled and tied back in a long pony tail. Gruesomely decayed pinkish-red skin, the staple of hollowing. None of these things mattered to the knight as he watched the undead man before him flicking the blood off his blade and deftly return his blades to their sheathes. The undead turned to face him once more and the knight then saw into his eyes. Though they appeared to be eyeless pits with only orange flames giving any indication of their being any life inside them at all, he knew those were not the eyes of any hollow. There was will, life and purpose in those eyes.

"Oh, you…" The knight mustered what strength he had left to find his voice. "You're no hollow, eh?" The undead swordsman shook his head in answer and stepped forward to kneel by the dying knights side, looking him over and understanding he was no threat to him unlike everything else alive in this gods forsaken prison. "Thank goodness…I'm done for I'm afraid." The undead reached out, placing his hand on the knight's shoulders and slowly try to lift him to a sitting position. The knight coughed in pain, blood spouting from the holes of his helmet and the swordsman realized his mistake and ceased what he was doing, gently lowering the knight's head back against the wall. The undead hung his head in apology to which the knight shook his own in dismissal, though he was beyond help he appreciated the gesture, nonetheless.

"My insides are damaged." The knight muttered. "I'll die soon…and then lose my sanity." Based on the slacking of the swordsman's brow and the deep frown forming on his hollowed face, the knight assumed his companion was looking upon him with pity, saddened by his plight, which they and all of their kind faced. "I wish to ask you something…" The knight knew beyond possibly opening the doors this undead's cell, the swordsman owed him no actual favor. It was already a kindness to just stop and address him at all, given his poor state. "You and I, we're both Undead…Hear me out, will you?"

"Of course." The undead's voice was solemn but gentle, it reminded the young knight of his father, making him wonder if the swordsman before him may have been older than him, though it was hard to tell with his face as it was. "Speak, friend. Stay with me." He pressed, keeping a firm grip on the knight's shoulder to keep him tethered to life just a bit longer.

"Regrettably, I have failed in my mission." The knight explained, guilt laced in his voice. "But perhaps you can keep the torch lit." The undead nodded, he was listening. "There is an old saying in my family: Thou who art Undead art Chosen. In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords. When thou ringeth the bell of Awakening, the fate of the undead thou shalt know." The knight finished his recital, painfully trying to catch his breath over the exhaustive act. His companion said nothing, his expression showing he was currently mulling over the dying knights words. "Well now you know…And I can die with hope in my heart."

"Is there nothing that can be done for you?" The swordsman asked sadly. The knight shook his head in sorrowful answer.

The knight shook his head in answer and then reached for his belt, holding out a peculiar flask that gave off a strangely alluring golden light. "Here take this. An Estus Flask, an undead favorite." 'Though beyond helping me', he thought grimly to himself. The undead took the offered boon without argument though his hand lingered as the knights fell away to retrieve something else from his pouch. "Oh and this." This set of rusted keys had served him well but the knight knew that his new friend was going to need them far more than he did now.

"Now I must bid farewell." The young knight whispered solemnly as he felt his last reserves of strength fading. "I would hate to harm you after death…so go, now…and thank you…"

The undead swordsman lingered for a moment more as he knelt beside the unlucky, noble soul dying in this accursed cell. He pondered for a moment whether he should carry the young knight from this dreaded cell, an unfit tomb for such a man whose potential greatness was so cruelly cut short. But he knew in the end his efforts would only cause the dying youth undue pain and defy his wishes to cause his fellow undead no harm. The swordsman bowed his head in acceptance.

"May flame make your rest comfortable, friend." The swordsman placed a gloved hand to his heart in a respectful nod of farewell. "Sleep well." The undead bid the knight farewell and rose back to his feet to leave. With a final sorrow filled glance back, the swordsman departed, his boots falling heavy on the stone floor.

'Alone again.' The knight leaned his head back once more to stare up at the sky through the hole in the ceiling. That meager light filtering down upon him had been his sole comfort as he first realized his own imminent demise. Now, his heart felt very light indeed. His mission was now in capable, valorous hands. And death truly did begin to feel like slumber as his mind began to drift away and his muscles slacken. 'What a shame. We never even exchanged names.' The knight gave a final sigh as darkness clouded his mind and he felt himself become light, very light. Almost as if he was floating.

"Goodbye, my friend."

 _ **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

 _ **1 Year Later (Knight's POV)**_

It was such a strange dream. I believed it had to be a dream because it couldn't possibly have been anything else. Why, if it were not a dream, was I starring at my own corpse as if through outward looking eyes?

There my body was; still dead and wearing my armor and equipment. And here I was, starring upon it, though not entirely certain how. I also didn't recognize where we were, me and my body. I assumed we were still in the asylum but not any part of it I recognized. It appeared to be some kind of ovular pit, possibly in some lower reach of the asylum as there were stone support pillars strewn about the sides of the pit. I also noticed that heaps of trash, debris and broken rubble seemed to litter the area. For a sickening moment I pondered whether or not my corpse had just been discarded with the asylum's other trash or unmentionable waste, as I spotted various components of a human skeleton discarded in a far corner. This was definitely not the place I had died.

I suddenly realized that I was being lowered, not by my own will nor did I feel at all swayed by gravity so I wasn't falling. Then why did it seem that some force other than my own was pushing me closer and closer to my corpse.

"Wait! What's going on?" I tried to ask aloud but my words silent, I lacked a voice to speak with. "Answer me! What's going on?! I demanded, still saying nothing. I was so close to my body that I could almost reach out and touch my armor, to feel the familiar cold steel. But the thought felt, alien to me, unnatural. Some part of me felt sickened by the abominable act I feared was about to take place. "Don't put me back in there!" I begged as my world, once again turned black.

And in that black void, I felt it. The suffocation. I could not breathe! I tried to take in gasps of air but I couldn't force my throat to constrict nor could I get any kind of reaction from my lungs. It was like I was at the bottom of some pitch black ocean, my lungs long filled with water that I could not choke out.

'Someone?! Anyone?! Help me!' I called out with my mind.

Then I saw it, a white form, gliding through the dark and coming ever closer to me. So dizzied by my lack of aerobic function, my vision had blurred, obscuring the figures appearance from me in a fog like haze. Only, I felt, I knew that shape. Like an image burned into my mind.

I felt a strong hand take my by the arm and carry me upwards. We climbed, higher and higher out of the dark and then I saw…light! The surface! I have no idea if it helped at all, I willed myself to rise faster, faster! To break free of these accursed waters and grasp life giving freedom.

I realized the figure had suddenly left me, leaving me to float up on my own. My life had been saved. Though I knew not by whom, I felt…oddly at ease, thinking about them. My hand finally broke through the surface.

" _ **GASP!"**_

Air! Great lungfuls of air! The pain these acts had caused me seemed almost entirely new sensations, or at least ones I had not indulged in a very, very long time. But I was relieved for the pain. Life can exist without the constant reminder of pain, one I was at this moment grateful for.

As I lay; taking in life giving breaths I had long been denied, I slowly began to open my eyes once more. My vision was still blurred, but that's was because I felt strangely exhausted and incredibly stiff. Better to just continue lying here, sleep a moment longer.

"So you live again? Good." A voice I did not recognize. My heavy eyes peered upward to see the figure standing above me, who owned that sinister sounding voice. In my stupored state of mind I could see little, the man speaking to me seemed as a dark shadow, faceless or perhaps masked. "We may have a use for you. For now, let's get you out of this tomb before that thing comes back and undoes all of my hard work."

I felt myself being lifted again, though I could feel hands actually carrying me this time, dragging me from my place of rest. I think I could make out a distinctly familiar set of moans coming from the ones carrying me and I pondered just how many my resurrector had accompanying him. We continued for a while longer, my carriers groaned in struggle as they carried me upwards, I supposed via a ladder.

I soon felt the dreary humidity of the tomb be banished as I felt the sensation of sunlight, shining upon me from on high. We were outside. The company seemed to slow in their pace. We appeared to have reached our destination.

"Leave him here." The dark voice ordered and I was suddenly dropped, unceremoniously mind you. I felt warmth nearby, and heard crackling, like that of burning wood. It was comforting feeling, I felt truly safe in this place, near this familiar warmth and hearing this sound. "Do get some rest, little undead." The sinister voice snickered dropping something beside me that made a heavy clanging noise. "You won't find much rest out there before too long." As I heard them depart, my eyes closed once more and my mind drifted, back to slumber.

Truly it was an odd dream. But I've had worse.

 _ **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

 _ **Hours Later (Normal POV)**_

"Uunnggh. Hmm?" The knight's eye's slowly opened. His sight was blurry, only for a moment. "A bonfire?" He recognized, feeling the warmth of the precious flames before him. He reached out to see if it was real or another dream and then he saw his out stretched hand, wrapped in brown leather and metal. "Hmm?!" The knight's eyes immediately shot wide open and he pushed himself upwards from his lying position on the soft grass beside the fire.

He looked at his hands then up, to his armored arm and down at his torso and lower body, also covered in armor, his armor. He recognized the blue mantle covering his torso anywhere, a symbol of his rank as a proud knight of Astora.

"I'm…alive?" He asked in disbelief placing a hand to his helmeted face, lifting up the visor and removing one his gloves. Pinkish, human skin. He touched his face, and felt the warmth on his cheeks, the hairs growing on his chin.

"Could it be?" He reached back, placing a hand to his back and feeling around his right shoulder blade.

 _ **Pulse!**_

A cold pulsation, one he was all too familiar feeling. He was still undead.

"To good to wish for I suppose." The knight sighed in disappointment, steadily rising to his feet. "But…it wasn't a dream. I live again!" The knight gripped his fist experimentally and then pumped it skyward, feeling the comforting contraction of muscle.

"Now then, where am I?" The Knight pondered as he surveyed his location. He soon knew he was still in the Undead Asylum. High stone walls surrounded his tiny glade centered by the bonfire. Several doors were located around him. One behind, leading back down to the deeper series of cells if he recalled. He also felt like that had been where he had come from. To the side, an old steel gate, leading to a side passage, possibly made to be a shortcut for those trying to get around the area faster but still needing easy access to the bonfire. **(Wow I am not subtle)**

And in front, an impressive set of giant double doors, likely heading into some main foyer of the asylum. Seemed the better route to take. As he was making his way from the bonfire his boot tapped against something on the ground. "Oh, can't forget this." He smiled as his hands rested around the familiar pommel of his straight sword. It had been his companion for many a year; forged and blessed in his homeland Astora it was a symbol of his knighthood as much as his armor was. He was relieved to find its sheath still attached to his belt where he returned it to its rightful place of security. The Knight looked around again and a troubled expression crossed his face. His shield was nowhere in sight.

"Blast." He cursed dejectedly. As an Astoran knight, the style of swordsmanship partnered with a shield had always been customary to him. Without it, he felt as helpless as he did without his sword. The knight checked his belt and found his spare blade, a small dagger, better for cutting meat than defending his life but it was better than nothing. The knight checked over his gear once more. Beyond his shield he was missing one more crucial item, his Estus Flask. But that he did not linger on, though he knew he would be hard pressed without it he did not regret parting with it, knowing it must have served its new, capable owner well.

Once he was confident everything was in its proper place, the knight approached the double doors. He pressed both his hands against them, but they did not budge. He pressed harder, pushing his shoulder against the rusted iron barrier, still it would not be passed. "Brilliant." He sarcastically muttered, not sure where to go from there. It was then that he perked up, hearing something from beyond the door. He pressed the side of his head against the door and listened closely.

 _ **Stomp! Stomp! Stomp! Crash!**_

The knight could never forget that sound. Heavy footfalls and the shuddering crash of a falling hammer. He never forgot his encounter with the monstrous demon on the roof, and the events following its fatal blow. The Knight gripped his gauntleted fist tightly around the hilt of his sword and placed the other hand to his midsection, remembering the pain of his insides being turned to jelly after crashing through the roof.

"Haaa." The knight sighed and stepped away from the door, heading toward the side gate instead. Revenge may have seemed satisfactory but he saw no reason to waste his miraculous new life for it. "Let the thing rot in this prison for all eternity. It's time I escaped this hellish asylum." The knight opened the thankfully unlocked rusted gate and looked to the side to find a set of stone stairs heading upwards to which he continued through. **(Bare with me for abit guys, you'll get your reads worth soon.)**

The knight stopped once he had reached the top of their stairs and surveyed his surroundings again. Another set of stairs were to his immediate right but they appeared to be heading upwards, which he highly doubted he'd find the exit in that direction. Further ahead, he saw an entryway into a corridor that seemed to be heading back down, a bit more promising since he'd at least be back on the ground floor, he assumed.

As he made his way to the entryway he stopped at a faded brick wall that appeared to have a large, destructively created, hole in it. The knight's stomach sank as he peered through the opening, he recognized his place of final rest well. It was like looking through eyes not his own looking at this place. He could almost envision himself in the place of that swordsman, looking upon his formerly sorry state as it sat upon the pile of stone rubble, dying and choking upon his last breaths. The knight shuddered and quickly took his leave of the place, lest he feared he may never leave it. He continued on his way down the slopping tunnel like corridor.

Once he made it down he was greeted with yet another long passage, only this one was exposed to the open sky, and far less inviting. 'Hollows.' The knight cursed as he peered around the corner and saw the pack of shambling dregs, at least five or six of them, adorned in their usual ruined rags and wielding broken weapons, though he cursed as he noticed at least two wielding short bows with arrows notched and quivers on their back.

Normally, one or more hollows could hardly be called threatening, but with their numbers, in this packed area and with two bows trained on him…the knight sorely missed his shield. He then noticed that one of the broken blade wielding Hollows was breaking away from the rest of the pack. The Astroran had no idea if it had seen him or was following some instinctually driven, pointless patrol it had grown into a habit of doing. Either way, it was coming very close to the corner he was standing behind.

The knight unsheathed his sword and waited. Waited till he could practically smell the dregs ghastly breath. The thing had just rounded the corner when he attacked, yanking the thing by the arm and then holding it to his armored frame with the same arm around its neck. The Hollow moaned and growled as it wildly struggled in his grip, desperately trying to strike its captor with its pathetic weapon. If it was doing anything useful at all, it was making a lot of noise, which would surely alert its comrades. The knight put an end to that with a plunge of his sword through the thing's back.

The Hollow went limp in his arms but the Astroran Knight did not remove his grip from its body nor did he remove his blade from its back. It was a gruesome plan he had in mind, not exactly one he considered knightly, but given his situation, he had no right to be picky with his tactics. The knight settled his nerves and tucked his head low as he charged out, into the open hallway with his fleshy shield leading the way. The other Hollows saw him coming and growled in rage as the warriors charged to meet him while the archers took aim.

The arrows were let loose with a sharp " _Twang!"_ as they careened for the charging Undead. As planned, the wooden projectiles thudded uselessly into the corpse of their dead comrade while the knight continued unimpeded in his dash. He heard the other Hollows coming close and he knew that he would have only seconds before the archers were ready again. With a sickening noise, the sword was wrung free from the hollows body as the knight allowed his makeshift shield to fall so he could free up his other arm to grab his knife.

"Hraaaah!" The first Hollow moaned as it came at him with a mighty downward slash, but its sluggish technique and wide path made it all too easy for the knight to deflect the blow off the side of his blade and stab his knife home into the dregs skull, the fire instantly dying in its eyes as he removed his weapon and met the next two Hollows head on. They clearly hadn't payed any attention to what happened to their comrade as they too came at the knight with wide, predictable swings. The knight dispensed with technique and simply stabbed ahead with both his straight sword and dagger, letting the Hollows' momentum do the job for him as they impaled themselves on his blades. The knight allowed both dregs to fall forward as he marched on the two archers who were still trying to notch new arrows to their bows. He wouldn't give them a chance.

With one swift slash to the side with his sword, he splintered both Hollows' meager bows, leaving the aged weapons as useless wooden bits on the ground. The Hollows had barely registered what happened to them when he stabbed his sword home into the chest of one and lobotomized the other with his dagger. All in all, that ended with six dead hollows and the knight standing victoriously unharmed. He sighed in relief as he returned his weapons to their proper place, thankful his skills hadn't rusted after his long "nap".

The undead exited the corridor and found himself in a square room with the majority of the room flooded with water runoff on one side and the other had a dry walkway that led to the exit. The knight sincerely hoped he was close to making his way out of the place. Then he heard it again.

 _ **Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!**_

'Blast!' The demon was also in this direction! On one hand he was thankful that he seemed to be going in the right direction as he must be near the other side of those double doors. On the other, he did not look forward to having to fight that thing again. His best hope would have to be in scurting around it and make for the exit. Just as he had resolved himself to that plan, did he hear a new noise.

"Watch out!"

 _ **Crash!**_

"It's gonna bring the whole asylum down atop of us if it doesn't smash us first!"

Voices, different from the one that had resurrected him and clearly in distress. Whoever they were they were clearly in combat with that thing! The knight rushed out of the room and into a large, rectangular foyer and was shocked to find a gaping hole in what was once a stone floor. Peering down he recognized the dreary basement level pit he had seen in his first waking moments of life. And he could clearly see the bulbous and hideous form of that titanic fiend even from this height.

The knight could never forget that hideously grotesque appearance nor the massive shadow that it had once cast upon him. The Asylum Demon's club smashed down, hopefully trying in vain in squashing some foe unseen by the knight.

"Were not gonna last much longer like this!" A somber voiced man called out from the pit, the knight looked in shock as bright orange light filtered from the pit; he didn't recall the thing being able to spew fire.

"Just keep trying, pyromancer!" Another man, voice lighter and slightly more fearful. The knight gripped his fist tight as he wrestled with the conundrum. The exit, he could see clearly from the doorway of the watered out room, was there before him behind another large set of double doors. But there was the situation before him, a creature he knew from experience, capable of squashing any undead flat with its mighty club like hammer and two of his fellow sane Undead at the demon's mercy and losing ground fast. He had only just been resurrected, should he really risk his life for strangers?

"I got nothing else." The "Pyromancer" gasped in exhaustion, his tone filling with despair. "We're done for."

Those three words rang in the knight's ears as he began backing away from the massive pit.

" _I'm done for I'm afraid. I will die soon and then lose my sanity…Regrettably, I have failed in my mission…"_

"Not this time!" The knight snarled as his sword sang from being unsheathed so violently. The knight had backed up just enough to gain enough momentum as he dashed in with sword in hand. "Demon!" He called out in challenge as he leaped into the pit, blade held high and poised for the plunge. The towering fiend had only just looked up when the knight dropped down atop its wide shoulders, stabbing his straight sword into the soft spot between the things neck and shoulder. The hideous creature cried out in pain as the sting of steel and the bite of the holy magic imbued into it caused it burning agony. The knight didn't stop there as his dagger flashed out in a flurry.

"Remember me?" The knight inquired mockingly as he stabbed the blade into one of the creatures hatefully glaring eyes. Another cry of pain and the knight took his opportunity to wring his sword free but left his dagger in the fiend's bleeding socket as he leaped down.

The two Undead he had come to aid starred at him in shock. One he recognized by his garb as a student of the magic school's of Vinheim, though he wore black to the school's customary brown. The other must have been the one addressed as a pyromancer and though he didn't dwell on it long, he found the man's odd attire made up tattered cloth with various baubles hanging off it to be quite the sight.

"Stay strong my fellows." The knight addressed them while taking a protective stance between the two and the demon. "None of us are dying here!" He promised though it was more to himself as it was to them.

"I didn't think there was anyone else here. You came at a perfect time, sir knight!" The pyromancer said gratefully.

"Exchange pleasantries later, that things coming back!" The sorcerer warned as the beast began to charge furiously toward them. Each footstep it took was like thunder, causing the ground to shudder. It suddenly leaped up, its tiny wings pumping into the air to provide it more lift. Its massive rear end was hovering above the trio threateningly, and they didn't need to think twice about what was going to happen next.

"Scatter!" The knight ordered as they did just so, he and the pyromancer leaping to one side while the mage rolled to a far corner of his own as the massive demon finally came crashing down with one loud disgusting "PLOP!" that caused the very ground to quake.

As the beast was picking itself up the mage took the opportunity to raise his catalyst, a simple staff of carved wood slightly longer than his arm, and begin focusing. A small gleam of bright blue light built at the tip of his staff's head as he pointed it forward, sending the arrow of bluish energy to impact across the things exposed back. The blast seemed moderately ineffective, in fact it only seemed to make it angry as the demon turned on the sorcerer.

"Oi, a little help!" The mage called to his fellows fearfully as the massive club was raised high. The beast suddenly cried out again, forgetting the cowering mage as it turned on the two Undead who had been hacking away at its backside with their sword and axe. The mage sighed in relief for the opportunity to escape from the trapping wall and strafed to the beast's slowly turning flank as he readied another spell.

The knight and pyromancer backed away as the club came sweeping from the side. The knight held his sword with both hands readily while his companion held his simple wood cutting axe at the ready, though he also wielded a rounded wood shield, against this foe…such meager defense would be as effective as if he didn't have it.

The knight signaled for the pyromancer to follow his companion's lead to which he nodded and began strafing to the demons other flank. Leaving the knight to keep the demon distacted while his comrades readied their attack.

"Here I am, whelp of Izalith!" The knight challenged, slamming his hand across his armored chest to make a racket the thing wouldn't ignore. "Believe me when I say, you're eye won't be all you lose this day!" He taunted while rolling to the side to dodge a club slam. "You were faster when we first met!" He ducked a sideways swing. "Smarter too!"

The Knight's taunts had the demon completely engrossed as it focused entirely on trying to squash the pesky, loud mouthed Undead. It was so preoccupied that it forgot the other two completely. The pyromancer gathered the last remanants of his strength as he hurled a burning orb of fire as wide as his chest at the demon just as his companion blasted the demon with a much stronger arrow of piercing blue energy.

" _ **Gyraaaaaa!"**_

The beast howled in pain as both heavy spells impacted its exposed flanks, causing it to drop its hammer and pitch forward, falling to its knees from the pain. The knight saw his opportunity and charged forward, his straight sword at the ready.

"Hraaaaaa!" The gleaming metal stabbed into the green, bulbous flesh with ease, the holy element of the steel burning up the demon's insides. "Now were even." The knight stated as he slashed to the side with all of his might, cutting a line across the demon's belly and allowing its ebony blood and unmentionable innards to pour forth, staining the knights armor black.

The Asylum Demon gave one final howl of pain as its body began to crumble apart, dispersing as a massive cloud of ash, leaving the dagger stuck in its eye behind. The knight fell to his knees exhausted as he looked at his demon blood stained sword. Finally, it accomplished what it could not so long ago. That monster would haunt him no longer.

"Are you alright, Sir Knight?" The pyromancer and mage rushed to his side as he rose back to his feet. The knight nodded to them and began working at the straps of his helmet, removing it slowly so he could look at his new acquaintances better. .

The pyromancer he noticed had slightly tanned skin and long dark brown hair he had parted to the side along with a thick goatee covering the lower half of his face. He smiled to the knight in a friendly manner. The mage had short brown hair and a very studious looking countenance. As for him, his companions would have noted his short blond hair, flatly mashed across his head, due to helmet. Though his expression slightly grim it was mainly from exhaustion. Like the pyromancer he also had a goatee, though his was much thinner, practically pencil thin.

"We never expected to find another warrior like yourself here." The pyromancer explained joyously while offering his hand which the knight gladly shook. "I am Laurentius, Pyromancer of the Great Swamp."

"Rickert, magic-smith of Vinheim." The sorcerer introduced. "We can't thank you enough for coming to save our hides like you did."

The knight looked upon his two companions and an odd feeling filled his soul. On his short journey, he had only met one other Undead he could call friend, and just as suddenly these two had fallen into his lap. He had no idea why he had been brought back or what fate had in store for him. But, he knew at least, he may not have to face it alone.

"My name is Oscar, Knight of Astora."

 **And done! Longer than I'm used to for an opening chapter but I'm pretty satisfied with it. As I said before, this is an original story set after the ending of Dark Souls, and I plan to write it in a fantasy novel style. What that means is that I'm going to try and remove as much game logic as possible. This story is made up almost entirely of npcs of the game with an oc as the Chosen Undead which you already met. Certain characters I will attempt to flush out more, so expect some 'creative adaptions' on my part. Same goes for lore though I will mainly be followed what is established canon, as I said before certain things that need to be flushed out I will take into my own hands.**

 **On to another point. I am starting this at the end of summer but I am not certain how often I will be able to work on the story, it will depend on how well I can adapt to my class/homework schedule. Not to mention I have another story ongoing now currently, technically two but I've pretty much come to a stopping point with the first. So let's play it by ear. Give me your thoughts and questions I will try to answer them either via pm or give general answers next post.**

 **Later, my dear readers!**

 **I do not own Dark Souls (sick of this shit!)**


	2. Awakening Part 2

**Awakening Part 2**

"Mistress Quelanna!" A shrill call resonated throughout the spider web filled cave, echoing out into the great underground lava field below. "Mistress Quelanna!" A meager looking undead; skin shriveled and turned a greenish/yellow and weighed down by the massive, pulsing egg sac on his back, crawled on his hands and knees while calling out to his mistress. A message of tremendous importance he had to share. "Mis-!" A delicate finger shot to his nearly open mouth as a woman adorned in silky black robes suddenly appeared beside him.

"I am here Eingyi. No need to awaken all of Izalith." She explained calmly, her face obscured by her hood. "Tell me, what ails you?"

"No ailment to speak of mistress. Only great joy!" The heretic Pyromancer turned manservant explained, beaming with excitement. "Kirk has succeeded. _He_ has been found!"

The sole Izalith daughter gasped, raising a hand to her mouth in a mixture of shock and joy. She immediately rose to her feet, placing a hand to the undead's egg covered back. "Take me to him." She was quivering with trepidation as the shuffling pyromancer led her out of the spider silk filled caves and out into the underground.

Very rarely did the former Daughter of Chaos return to this demon infested expanse. After her Mother's blasphemous attempt at relighting the First Flame and the cataclysmic events that transpired there after that resulted in her family and all of their civilization of Izalith to become a hellish lava pit, she had retreated into the swamps of Blighttown in self imposed exile, ashamed of her cowardice and powerlessness. Only once before had she returned to this place, to pay respects to her mother and sisters after a certain individual had taken it upon himself to end their tormented lives as monstrosities of chaos. Now, once again for family does she find herself on these lava fields again.

"Where is Kirk?" She inquired to her attendant, expecting the former Dark Wraith to be her guide to the one she sought.

The crawling undead clicked his tongue in distaste. "That wretch is long gone I surmise. He only pointed me in the right direction and then took off to lords knows where. I doubt either of us will see him again, and good riddance I say."

"I always found it odd how you two claimed to both serve my dear sister Quelaan , rest her soul, yet you have nothing good to say about the other." When Quelana had first discovered the two and introduced herself as a sister of Quelaag and Quelaan, the two had been on the verge of killing each other, swearing that the other had been at fault for her sister's tragic passing. Eingyi jumped to attention at once to proclaim his loyalty to the remaining daughter of Izalith, claiming that for the kindness Quelaan had shown him he would serve any member of her family faithfully. Kirk on the other hand scoffed, and took his leave of the meeting, claiming his reason for staying had died long ago.

"I never liked that oafish knight." Eingyi spat as the two had finally reached the bottom of the sloping hill of the Demon Ruins. Normally the great barren waste would be infested with Taurus Demons, but judging by the black blood stains streaked across the field and the giant war axes littering the area, Kirk had already made short work of the entire herd before leaving. "He never seemed to understand his station after swearing fealty to the fair lady. He and my fair lady always seemed far too close than should have been permitted. I think the only reason mistress Quelaag allowed it was because he provided a steady supply of human souls to ease my fair lady's sickness. But where was he in the end? Gone! Vanished! He had abandoned his duty and my fair lady succumbed, abandoned and broken hearted because of it."

The old undead grumbled to himself while Quelana looked down upon him with pity. She had once before asked the beset pyromancer this same question and he had given her the same answer. It seemed the poor old man was slowly losing his wits, either by age, madness or the parasites still eating away at him. Despite his desire to serve her for the rest of his days, it often seemed like she was caring for him most days, but the kindly woman did not mind it, appreciative for the company of an adoring attendant. Still she often thought back to when she had confronted the Knight of Thorns about what Eingyi had told her. At first, she feared she may have to defend herself against his outrage but instead, the man had crumbled under accusation and relented, saying:

" _What you say very well may be the truth. Though I claim that man who had been the source of dear Quelaan's illness to be at fault, it was still my duty to sustain her, even if I had to offer up my own Humanity to do so."_

The Knight then went on to explain why he had "abandoned his duty" as Eingyi had explained it. To the shock and skepticism of the Chaos Daughter, he told her of his death in the line of duty, hunting for Humanity to cure Quelaan, though he remained mute on the specific details as to how or by whom he was killed. He then went on to explain how he had suddenly reawakened within Quelaag and Quelaan's chamber, alive but distraught having found his mistress long dead, most likely from lack of sustenance. He did not know why he had been revived but claimed that oblivion would have been a kinder fate.

"If you claim that you had died while fulfilling your duty to Quelaan, why blame yourself?" Quelana asked as the man had fallen to his knees in shame.

" _Death is never an excuse! My oath is left undone and my love has crumbled to ruin like this desolate place. What reason have I been reborn other than penance for my failure!?"_

Quelana looked upon the broken knight with a mixture of shock and compassion. She too hated herself for her lack of strength at being unable to help her family, she knew all too well what the undead warrior felt. Which was why she had proposed her request to the Knight of Thorns, a task she knew Quelaan would have approved of. The knight mulled over her proposition but begrudgingly accepted, though he explained that he would do nothing else for the Daughter of Chaos after that, as his loyalty only remained with the fair lady.

And the knight had followed through as Quelana spotted the circle of prism stones, surrounding a lone, oddly misshapen black pillar of hardened magma that was at least the size of a human man, the center of a bubbling pool of still active lava.

"At least the oaf could do something right." Eingyi scoffed as Quelana approached the black mass. She stopped short of the lava for only a moment but stepped forward unafraid. "Mistress!" Eingyi cried out fearfully as he witnessed Quelana step into the white hot pool of fire. "At least wear the ring!" He begged.

Quelana pitched forward, her feet and bottom of her robes catching fire within the bubbling lava. "I…am a daughter of Izalith, a progenitor of Pyromancy. I do not fear flame or heat." Her voice rang proud but even she could not deny the searing pain wracking her body as her feet burned. "Besides, I would never dare wear a ring meant for one of my siblings." Quelana finally reached the center of the pool and placed a hand on the black pillar, tracing the curves and contours of the oddly shapened mass with her fingers. "It has been far too long…" Quelana's hands finally stopped, encircling a prominent deformation of the rock. "My brother." The agonized face of the Ceaseless Discharge starred back at her.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"This is the path the two of you took to get here?" Oscar asked his new companions as they led him out of the Asylum and out onto a sheer cliff-face covered in headstones and crumbling ruins. The trio had to backtrack through the Asylum once more after their tenuous battle with the Demon, this gave the young knight the opportunity to stop and wash off his armor and blades in one of the run off filled square rooms, cleansing them of the demonic ichor that had stained them black. Now, having apparently reached the far end of the Asylum, the knight looked skeptical as his companions passed knowing glances.

"Believe it or not sir Knight, this is the path all undead must take to get back and forth from our destination to the Asylum." Laurentius, the pyromancer, explained while taking the knight by the shoulder and leading him forward to the cliffs outcropping. "My companion and myself included."

"Then…do we drop?" Oscar inquired, theorizing that the two must have scaled the cliff wall to get here. The knight had been about to walk over to a side end of the cliff when his companions pulled him back, looks of shock on their faces at the thought of what he thought to do.

"Gods no!" Rickert explained , placing a hand to his temple in exasperation. "That will be our transport." The mage pointed to the farthest edge of the cliff-face. Standing upon the perilous outcropping, and large enough that the knight wondered how he had missed it, was a massive bowl of twisted vines and broken sticks, in essence: a bird's nest. A still incubating brood of eggs as large as a man was wide rested within the nest, their parents apparently nowhere in sight.

"I believe I follow what you are implying." Oscar accepted, though a pang of trepidation coursed through him at the prospect of what he feared may happen.

"Then for now, one of us will have to part ways here from the rest." Laurentius explained, a shadow of disappointment crossing his face. "And I suppose it will be me. You had that errand after all, didn't you Rickert?"

"True, I suppose I'll see you on the other side friend." The two mages shook hands while the confused knight watched on perplexed. "Tell the others to be ready to acquire us at the meeting place."

"I shall." Laurentius promised and then turned to Oscar, placing an assuring hand on the young knights shoulder. "Stick with Rickert once you land, Sir Oscar." The pyromancer instructed then the chuckled in jest as he added. "He's a right coward most of the time but he's also clever enough to get you out of a mess when it counts." The mage-smith cast his companion a dirty look before the pyromancer backed away.

"I'm off then!" The pyromancer reached for a pouch hanging from his bag as he extracted an odd white object that the knight first suspected was chalk and then blanched when he realized it was a milky white bone, the length of a long finger. The pyromancer knelt and held the white fragment to his chest as a pale white mist rose from the ground to envelope him. Oscar starred wide eyed , though it was hard to tell behind his helmet, as his friend was completely shrouded by the white mist and once it dispersed, he was gone.

"A Homeward Bone." Rickert explained to the clearly dumbstruck Astoran. "A useful little artifact that transports its user back to the last Bonfire they visited. Laurentius and I decided to not make any stops on our way here to make getting home much easier."

"And we will get there by…"

"Take a seat." Rickert invited as he found a comfortable spot within the giant nest, pulling his knees to his chest and gesturing that Oscar should do the same. "It's not going to be the most comfortable ride, I assure you."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 _ **Crash!**_

After a less than an exhilarating flight in the claws of a raven so dreadfully massive Oscar feared death had come to take him again, the Knight suddenly found himself tumbling through the open air as the raven let him go, without warning, over the ruins of what may have been a shrine to honor the gods in its golden years but now seemed long abandoned. The knight had landed within a circular site just outside the shrine that luckily was outfitted with a bonfire. After a trip like that, the terror stricken knight needed a good rest. The knight suddenly cursed as he realized that the auspiciously placed bonfire had been extinguished, it would seem he would receive no comfort here.

"Interesting." Oscar looked up and finally spotted his companion where he had landed, softly within a second nest on a broken ledge overlooking the shrine. "They must have known you were a new arrival and dropped you off like they usually would one." The mage surmised as he began his steady descent down the edges and unbroken stairs of the crumbling shrine.

"I swore the moment my freedom of that wretched Asylum was in sight that I would never step foot there again. Now my resolve is doubled!" Oscar proclaimed as he took a tired seat within the circle. "Where is this?" The knight finally asked once Rickert had joined him by the useless bonfire.

The smith grinned as he led his friend over to the edge of the circle so that he could see the vast, mountainous landscape before him. "Oscar, welcome to Firelink Shrine, but more specifically, welcome to Lordran."

The knight let the man's words sink in for a moment before he finally let out a sigh of disbelief. The knight had to use a nearby tree to keep himself on his feet as he starred outward, his destination, his goal, his dream. He had finally made it. After so long and many a tragedy and trial, he had finally arrived in the ancient land of lords, spoken of in legend.

'Did you stand here in my place once you arrived? Were you as awestruck as I?' Oscar pondered to himself as he thought of the twin scimitar wielding undead he had entrusted his mission to. Imagining his friend also taking that great plunge from the raven's grip and stare at this wondrous expanse of rolling hills and intimidating mountains as he did now.

"This used to be where many Undead would gather, it was sort of a haven for our kind to rest our weary souls and exchange information." Rickert explained while taking a seat once more.

"Then where is everyone?" Oscar inquired, seeing that the shrine was totally abandoned save for them and those damnable ravens circling above their nest overhead. "You mentioned others with Laurentius. If not here where would we meet them?"

Rickert sighed while bridging his fingers together in contemplation. Oscar noticed the troubled look on the mage's face and sat opposite him around the circle so he could address him directly.

"Rickert, tell me. What is going on?"

The smith sighed and got up from his spot and made his way to a set of sloping stairs built into the hillside. "I have an errand to run, so…I'll have to explain on the way." Oscar nodded as Rickert gestured for him to follow as they continued down a second set of stairs that lead to a hollowed out chamber within the mountain.

"To start off, let's give you a quick idea as to what the rest of us had been doing when we first arrived here, years ago." Rickert started while pulling back a crank that seemed to activate a mechanism causing a chain pulled lift to rise up for the two to step on. "None of us really knew how it was started or who learned it from whom first, but it was spoken from word of mouth that a great honor would be presented to we Undead once we had toiled and fought our way through the worst that Lordran could send at us and rang two ceremonial bells. One in the Upper Cathedral of the Undead Burg and one down below in the marsh pits of Blighttown."

The lift had finally come to a stop as the two were let out into the lower level of the mountain. Oscar gaped as spread out before him was an impressive city, seemingly deserted and darkened by the shadow of the mountain, but awe inspiring to be certain. Rickert continued as he led Oscar further down.

"As it turned out, even that simple task was beyond many of us as a more than a few Undead either wound up going Hollow or decided to give up and just wait out our fate as the despair of defeat or fear just beat us all down. And yes I say us because I was one of them." Oscar coughed in discomfort, not trying to look like he had been suspecting but was ashamed to see he had been seen through so easily.

"That's how I wound up down here, locked myself away in this cell and set up shop for any fellow Undead in need of my craft." The mage-smith stopped on an outcropping looking down upon the dead city. The cliff like platform appeared to be an ancient set of stairs, possibly crumbled away from age or destroyed in some dire conflict. He was gesturing to a single, iron barred window that led into a cell, built into the platform.

"Is this your errand?" The young knight inquired as the mage smith started pulling at two of the iron bars until they gave way, coming out of their sockets far easier than one would have suspected.

"Indeed." The mage crawled through the tiny opening he had made in his old sanctuary and Oscar suddenly heard the sound of scraping of metal and the rummaging of objects being stuffed into bags. "Catch!"

Oscar had to process Rickert's command quickly as a bag was tossed through the barred opening and landed in the knight's open arms. The rucksack was heavy and seemed to be filled with rocks by his inspection. "You came all this way here for your rock collection?" Oscar asked, worried for his friend's sanity. Another bag was shot through the opening as Rickert followed it out.

"Hardly." The smith gathered up the other bag and slung it over his shoulder, creating a great racket as the equipment in the bag crashed together. Rickert undid the binding on the bag he handed Oscar and pulled out an obsidian stone, small and shaped practically like a coin, the knight noticed it seem to have an almost metallic sheen to it. "This, my soon to be educated friend, is Titanite. The metal ore used by the gods and precious commodity to us Undead. I had amassed quite a collection of these scraps while staying safe and cozy within my little shop. Helping out other warriors like yourself by maintaining their equipment and using these little pretties to give their weapons that tiny extra "oomph" they needed."

Oscar gazed at the seemingly unimpressive rock but could not refute the smith's story as he also knew had never seen a stone with as much luster. "Seems you had carved out quite a living of sorts in this land of danger and death. Why then did you decide to leave?" The knight inquired and the mage smith only shrugged in reply.

"I can't remember really, my memory up until my revival is foggy. All I could surmise was whatever pulled me from my sanctuary inevitably ended up being what killed me."

Oscar starred dumbstruck by the retort. "You had died and were revived as well?"

"Not just me and apparently not just you either. All of us, Laurentius, and our comrades included. We all were just dead Hollows at one point."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Mistress, that was far too reckless!" Eingyi reprimanded worriedly as he knelt beside the robed woman. "Who knows what manner of irreparable damage may have been done if you had stayed in there any longer?!"

"I apologize, dear Eingyi. I admit, I overestimated my own fire resistance." The daughter of Chaos starred down at her feet and grimaced in pain. Thanks mainly to her inhuman heritage, her feet had survived the torment she put them through; though they had been burned terribly, having turned a ghastly charcoal black and had become all but numb to her. She doubted that she should be walking any time soon. Still… "It had to be done though, that ring belonged rightly to my dear brother, a gift to ease his birth born suffering."

Quelana gazed lovingly upon the dormant state of her mutated brother, a black banded ring with a red-orange gem set into it and placed upon his charred finger. Even changed as he was, he still retained his kindness and loyalty to his family, having guarded the remains of their dear departed sister up until he was slain by a wandering Undead. Though Quelana had not asked it of him, she knew deep down that her brother's slayer very well may have been the same Undead she had asked to put her mother and siblings out of their misery, though he had abstained with Quelaan. And though she knew not what caused the battle to come about, based on the untouched nature of her sister's remains she knew whoever had done it had not defiled them in any form whatsoever.

Now she sat at her brother's side, having returned the ring she and her sister's crafted for him so long ago, and rested while pondering on what she knew she must do next.

"I understand your joy at having been reunited with a member of your family after so long, but you must understand the delicacy of our situation. In your current state you are helpless to run away and, shamefully to say, I have not the ability to carry you to safety should the situation arise." Eingyi explained, nervously scanning the area for signs of demons. Even if Kirk had cleared out the immediate area of them, there was no telling when more would show up to replace them.

"Even should some danger rear its ugly head, I will not abandon him. Not again." She swore as she slowly brought her knees together and knelt, hands clasped together in front of her chest. "I have rested enough; it's time to do what we came here for. Do you still have what I entrusted you?"

The parasite stricken undead looked uncertain for a moment before nodding, holding his hands out at once. A glimmering soul that shined and shimmered like a miniature white sun appeared in his outstretched hand. The soul of a Fire keeper, one dear to his heart.

"Are you certain this will work?" The attendant asked as his Mistress began to chant under her breath. A flickering golden light lit between her clasped fingers as her breathing began to slow, rhythmically like a heartbeat. The flames dimmed and danced in time with her breathing as she revealed the golden orb of flame she had conjured for her attendant to see.

"The Flame my mother had obtained from the First Flame was the Flame of Life, the very spark that ignites the will of all souls." Quelana explained as she held out the golden torch toward her statue like brother.

"But to bring the dead back to life?" Eingyi pressed.

"He is not dead, not fully in any case." Quelana stated confidently. "His body had sustained heavy injury but he did not die. If he had these remains would not be here, dormant as they are." The undead couldn't refute the logic presented to him. The Daughters of Chaos he had served and their demonic kin were not human as he once was. And when they died their bodies would dissipate and crumble to ash, without leaving a corpse. "He is only asleep, waiting for a spark of life to awaken him once more." With that the blacked robed witch channeled her flame forth, letting the golden flames enwrap the black pillar until it had become a glorious beacon of gold. "This will take time, once I am done be ready with Quelaan's soul!" Quelana urged while gasping between labored breaths.

"What purpose does my fair lady's soul have in this ritual?" Eingyi inquired, mesmerized by the incredible fire magic he knew he would never be able to duplicate. He also wondered why his mistress had insisted that they not reveal the soul to Kirk when she had found it, hidden amongst the webs of his fair lady's home, though due to his disdain of the knight he was not as vocal about it.

"His last moments were of great pain I assume." Quelana huffed, her breathing becoming ragged due to the strain of sustaining the spell. "He may attack us out of rage or fear once he awakens. If I cannot calm him, perhaps the presence of another sister may calm him. Once he is revived you must give him the soul."

"Well we can't have that now can we?"

"Eeeyah!" Eingyi cried out in pain and shock as the tip of a long spear was plunged through his back, causing him to drop the shimmering white soul. His attacker towered over him and the prone Quelana who turned at his cry and starred wide eyed, cursing herself for not being more attentive.

They had been completely surrounded as their attention was turned on Quelana's ritual. A pack of white clothed assassins; each wielding a pair of short, flap tipped curved blades, had encircled the Quelana and Eingyi, at their head were two men, both clearly human/undead. The one that had attacked Eingyi wore bulky looking leather and steel armor, his still bloody pike in hand with a crude wooden shield in his other. "Looks like our boss was right to have us watch this one, all those weeks of camping in that damned swamp finally paid off." He addressed his partner, an older man in a bright crimson robe wielding a long metal rod he held in both hands.

"Let's just grab what we came for and be done with it. I can't stand this part of Lordran and wish to be done with it, post haste." He pressed, nervously starring out to the lava filled area with fear and disgust.

"Right-oh!" The warrior agreed, snapping his fingers, prompting one of the white robed assassins to step forward and reach for Quelaan's Fire Keeper Soul.

"Do not touch that!" Quelana snarled but realized that she could not pull her hands away from channeling the life giving flames upon her brother.

"Ignore her, even if she could defend herself she'd never be able to take all of us." The leather clad undead insisted as his minion finally grasped the white soul, only to drop it and reel back as a white worm with red pincers clamped onto his outstretched arm.

"What?!" The two undead starred in shock as the pack of pouncing, biting parasites sprang upon them and the rest of their men.

"Hehehehe! It seems my pretties are still hungry for more now that my life is ebbing away." The dying Enigyi laughed weakly. "On my honor, I will not allow you to harm Mistress Quelana or lay your filthy hands upon the soul of the Fair Lady!"

The warrior ripped a worm from his arm and stepped on it in disgust, sneering in satisfaction as he saw his partner begin systematically vaporizing the worms with shot after shot of Soul Arrows channeled from his Tin Catalyst. "If these bugs are the best you can muster, old man, I think your honor is as worthless as this piss poor attempt was." The marauder mocked, prompting the hollow to snicker to himself snidely.

"Boy, you have yet to know the true terror of Eingyi, the Heretic Pyromancer!" With one final gasp of pain, the Hollow opened his mouth wide, allowing a miasma of violet smoke to filter out of his mouth and over the pack of marauders. One of the white robed warriors made the mistake of breathing in the smoke as it immediately began hacking up blood, clawing at its throat in agony while doing so. Its companions watched on in horror as it finally fell dead, eyes bloodshot and wide.

"Don't breath in the gas!" The sorcerer in red commanded while rummaging through his pouches on his belt until he pulled out a clove of purple moss. "Eat antidote moss if you've got it!"

"Wrinkled little shit!" The warrior snarled as he chewed on his own moss clove while stamping through the smoke in search of the insolent Hollow that tried to poison him. "Once I get my hands on you…" He used his spear and shield to part the gas in front of him as he searched for his prey.

 _ **Whoosh!**_

The warrior had only enough time to stare wide eyed and raise his shield as a crimson red fire ball came flying through the air right for him. The fire ball struck his shield full on and he had to quickly drop it as the fire ball burst into a glob of lava that stuck and instantly burned through his simple wood defense.

"Dear Eingyi, I will never forget your loyalty even to the bitter end." Quelana swore as she stood beside the body of her murdered attendant, another fire ball burning hungrily in her hand. Normally with their legs damaged as hers were most people would not be able to stand, so great was the wrath of the Chaos witch that even pain became nothing to her. "I will avenge you!"

The white robed assassins rushed in to aid their leader but were instantly pushed back as a lash of whip like fire flew out from Quelana's palms, engulfing one of the slower assassins and incinerating it in an instant. The Mother of Pyromancy didn't stop there as she crossed her hands out in front of her, prompting geysers of flame to erupt from the ground and catching two more assassins, the chaos fire consuming their flesh almost ravenously.

"We didn't here come for this! Just grab the damn soul and let's make our escape!" The sorcerer instructed his partner as the two of them leaped away from the greedy flames. The leather clad undead didn't need to be told twice as he sprinted forward, avoiding the flames as they sprang up and diving straight for the glimmering white soul.

"Got it!" He cried in joy and was about to turn back to escape, when he heard a very harsh, cracking sound coming from behind him. "What?!"

"Ruuuuuurrrr!" The once lifeless black pillar had suddenly began glowing with inner heat, the lava pool beneath it having seemingly been absorbed into it. The hardened magma cracked as the bright pits of hell fire glowed to life on the agonized demonic face. Tendrils of white hot fire erupted from the rock and shot forward, grasping the undead's legs and yanking him off his feet.

"What is that thing!?" He cried in terror as he ineffectively stabbed his pike into the tendrils encircling his leg. He was slowly being pulled back toward the slowly crumbling pillar as the demon trapped within growled at him hatefully.

"He wants the soul, I suggest you give it to him." Quelana warned while looking to her newly reawakened brother with relief. It had been difficult there at the end but she had succeeded, her brother lived!

"Take it, just get off me!" The warrior casted aside the white orb, prompting the burning tendrils to release him so he could scrambled away, his leather/iron greaves singed black. The demon within the pillar screeched in joy as it finally erupted free of the hardened lava, allowing the onlookers to get a better grasp of its appearance.

It stood taller than an average man, though that may had been due to its lava entrapped face. Its body was a grotesque amalgamation of flesh and fire as most of its lower body and half of its upper body was human like in appearance but its right arm and head were engulfed in lava, masking it in an agonized demonic visage with a set of four eyes and twin downward pointing horns growing from its skull. Its entire right arm was engulfed by the fiery tendrils that swayed and danced around menacingly. The beast stumbled forward and knelt as it reached the glimmering soul, gently taking hold of it with its human appendage and bringing it close to its chest. The demon seemed to coo longingly as it held the soul of the Fire Keeper close and to the shock of all baring witness, it began to cry, streams of lava pouring from the pits that were its eyes.

"Dear brother…"Quelana choked as she raised a hand to her mouth to cover her sobs. "You remember her don't you? Our dear, departed sister." Quelana took two steps toward her kneeling brother when a mighty impact struck across her back, forcing her to her knees. She readied a fire ball to retaliate only to be struck again by another heavy Soul Arrow. Though her robes offered her fair protection from magic, the powerful magic projectiles were like hammer blows, wracking her body with pain making it impossible for her to fight back.

"We'll just take her and let that thing keep the soul, for now." The crimson robed sorcerer decided, finally having enough of the farce before him. "Take her!" He ordered the remaining white clad soldiers. Two violently grasped her by the arms and began pulling her semi-conscious body away as the two undead began to retreat from the lava field, leaving the teary eyed demon behind with their prize.

Quelana's hood had been removed during the skirmish, revealing a fair, pale skinned face and red tinged black hair tied into a bun. Quelana starred sorrowfully at the retreating form of her brother and gave one final outcry.

"Quael!" She called out desperately, grabbing the attention of the demon who was starting to look at lot less demonic as the lava covering his face began to fall from his face as the tears from his eyes fell to the floor. His tendrils had also all but receded into his body, revealing a human arm, covered in a skin as molten as the lava falling from his face but far more human than it looked before. "Protect her brother! You cannot let them have her!"

Quelana could only shout that much before her skull exploded in pain, courtesy of the sneering leather clad warrior taking her away.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Moments passed in silence for the two Undead as Rickert set about strapping their cumbersome loads to their backs, making sure the bags strapped to their backs would provide as little detriment to their movement as possible. Oscar had been spending the moments in deep contemplation of what he had been told. As it turned out, not just he, but many Undead had died before finding their destinies in Lordran; which was understandable because of the of nearly endless amount of obstacles and perils rumored to infest the land. What had him so entirely lost in thought was the revelation that someone was actually going around reviving dead or hollowed Undead for some purpose not even Rickert knew of. He had only managed to survive long enough to meet up with others, like and just as confused as himself. By what means and for what purpose were these unthinkable actions being done, the Astoran knight had spent so long pondering this that he nearly missed Rickert explaining to him the next phase of their trip.

"Alright, everything seems secure. Hopefully the extra weight wont load us down to much because lords know we have a lot of ground to cover through extremely hostile territory." Rickert noticed how inattentive the knight seemed. "Oscar, did you hear me?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes." The knight nodded, affirming his own load was secure and did not obstruct his movements. "So, what is our destination? I hope not to far considering what we carry." Oscar inquired as the two made their way back to the lift.

"Well, after we had to abandon Fire Link, we moved our 'sanctuary' of sorts to the old church in the Upper Undead Burg. There used to be a lift that would take us straight up to the Undead Cathedral just next door to it, in Fire Link. But the Hollows caught on to us using it and cut the line, robbing us of a useful shortcut up and down the mountain." Rickert noticed the knight was starring at him and deduced it was in confusion. "I know, it was a real shock for us to when we figured it out."

"How could the Hollows have possibly understood to do that?" As Oscar understood, Hollows were instinctual creatures, not capable of much more than the most intricate muscle memory they possessed on how to fight or even tactics they had used in life that had become habit to them in undeath.

"Something big is brewing in Lordran while we've all been gone. Something is causing the Hollows to act up. And even worse things than them have been showing up in these parts as of late. That was why we left Fire link, it was far too vulnerable and open to defend.

"What kind of things?" Oscar asked just as he and Rickert stepped off the lift and began walking up the stairs to Fire Link. That was when they heard the flapping of heavy, leathery wings and shrill screeches as three man sized, milky white objects flew by the crumbling staircase.

"Things like them!" Rickert cried in shock as he broke into a run, Oscar right behind him as he watched the flying creatures circle overhead.

"What are they?!" He asked, drawing his sword and dagger, though he doubted they'd be much use against these flying fiends.

"The gods' hunting demons! They've been snatching our kind up and dragging them off to Gwyn knows where ever since we started waking up. Hope you're ready for a fight." Rickert had his catalyst at the ready and was at this point really missing having Laurentius at his side. Oscar was capable but two blades weren't going to help much against these flying menaces.

"Here they come!" Oscar warned as he and Rickert made it up to the Bonfire circle and raised their weapons as the trio of white, bat winged monsters swooped in, brandishing their pale, bone like spears. Oscar slashed vainly with his sword as one flew near him, but his attack missed by a wide margin as the creature veered away, hovering just out of reach of his sword and stabbed at him with its longer reaching spear, forcing the knight to cross his blades in front of him to defend himself. He was able to guard against the thrust well enough but he felt dangerous energy passing and attempting to numb his arms as the electrically sparking spear pushed against his crossed guard.

And still two more were flying in. Rickert released a volley of Soul Arrows, one at a time, toward the diving pair, but so slow were his magic projectiles that he had barely been able to graze their wings. Oscar was still dealing with deflecting the strikes from the nearest one, if the other two bring the fight in close…the mage knew they'd stand no chance. Though he was terrified to admit it, it seemed they would be the next two Undead to be captured by these fiends.

"Looks like this it, Oscar. Sorry I dragged you down here for my stupid errand. I should have just taken us straight to the meeting place but I was too damned a fool to realize it." Rickert had began to lower his catalyst in defeat, when...

"It's not ending here, just like it wasn't going to end in the Asylum!" Oscar proclaimed as he stepped back suddenly just as his opponent stabbed at him once again. The sudden movement caught the demon off guard, making it overshoot the length of its stab and impale its spear in the ground where Oscar had been standing. The knight quickly made his move, hastily sheathing his blades as he wrapped his arms around the length of the ivory weapon just as the demon was attempting to pull back. The knight heaved with all of his might, tugging the weapon from the beasts bloody talons, spinning it in his grasp and impaling the off-guard fiend through the torso with its own weapon.

The demon shrieked in pain as it grasped the bone spear stuck in its breast. It attempted to weakly flap away but could not find the strength and suddenly plummeted to the ground in a heap before the Knight and stunned mage. Oscar saw that the demon was still alive and attempting to remove the spear from its chest in a desperate bid for survival; but he moved quicker, taking a hold of the ivory lance and pushing it deeper into the creature's sternum until it was driven completely through its back. The demon let out a final shriek of pain before disintegrating to ash and souls, leaving its weapon behind.

The demon's compatriots saw what had happened and immediately pulled back in their dive, trying to stay back lest they meet the same fate. "At least from this distance they won't be able to get us either." Oscar noted.

"Don't be so sure." Rickert gulped as the twin bat creatures raised their spears high, yellow lightning sparks racing down the length of their weapons. "Take cover!" Rickert tackled the heavier knight to the side as the demons released twin bolts of lightning from their spears that cascaded and exploded against the ground, possibly vaporizing what may have been there. "You were saying?" Rickert asked his companion dryly from their cover behind the stone ruins as he began firing Soul Arrows back, his counter fire easily being avoided by the areal superiority of the fiends who began channeling more lightning from their spears.

"Those are Chaos demons." Oscar suddenly stated in realization. "Yet they wield the lightning power of an adherent of Gywn through those spears…could we do the same?" He still held the spear of the slain demon and held it out to Rickert.

"Oscar I…I understand what you're getting at but, it's just beyond me." Rickert shook his head in denial but the Astoran knight placed a hand on his shoulder and the spear onto his lap.

"I'll try and distract them, you be ready to slay those demons. I know you'll figure it out." With that, the knight quickly unsheathed his straight sword, dashing out behind cover just as the demon's lightning impacted against their stone barrier, causing the aged brick to shudder but remarkably still hold strong. "Over here you pox faced flying rats. Come and take me if you can!" The knight waved his sword in challenge as he realized he had gained his foes attention.

The bat fiends hissed at him hatefully as they struck out with their lightning once more. The knight quickly rolled to the side to dodge the blast, just as the second blast came soaring in. He knew he couldn't dodge this one, so he instinctively raised his sword in defense, blocking the searing lightning as best as he could while the crackling power surged over him, burning him through his armor. As the blast subsided, there was a terrifying moment when the Knight seemed like he was about to fall to his knees as his legs buckled beneath him. But the valor taught knight stayed strong, shifting his sword to either hand experimentally to see that his strength still had not left him. "Any time you're ready Rickert!" Oscar called as the mage-smith shot up from around his cover, spear and catalyst in either hand and pointed to the sides.

"I certainly hope this works." The smith muttered as he put every last bit of his mental strength in channeling magic to his twin weapons. Blue light built at the tip of the wooden catalyst while crackling electricity sparked around the shaft of the looted demon's spear. Rickert gave out a mighty cry as he swung both staff and spear forward, releasing a spiraling arrow of massive soul energy and a bolt of hurtling lightning toward the distracted demons who only turned just in time to see their deaths hurtling right for them.

"Kyyyeeeeeeee!"

Soul Arrow and lightning bolt struck the twin demons at once, blasting them out of the air and sending them plummeting to their deaths in the canyon below. Oscar and Rickert stood poised, weapons still raised to see if their enemies may climb back up and attack again. Several moments went by and not a single cry was heard, the two undead collapsed to the ground exhausted from their wounds and fatigue.

"For someone…who just came back from the dead…you're the most suicidal undead I've ever met!" Rickert gasped as he looked to Oscar incredulously. The knight lifted up his visor to meet his companions gaze.

"My father had a saying about what a man trying to be like a hero in the old stories had to be: 'One part brave, other part fool.' Seems I've taken my first steps down that path…sorry, I mean we have."

The two undead starred back at each other while gasping for breath and as one, they gave in, both bursting into laughing fits as the laid their heads back to the soft grass. Another battle, another victory won by valor and recklessness. Just another day for aspiring undead heroes.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

" _Sis…ter"_

A trail of lava marked its path as the deformed figure marched across the empty lava fields, its feet plodding slowly as it trudged toward a destination it only vaguely recalled. Up the sloping hill it walked, lava falling from its shoulders and head and dripping down its back but oddly enough not burning its pinkish human skin.

The creature finally saw its destination in sight as it crossed a long bridge overlooking the ruins of a once prosperous but now hellish city. It trudged onward to the place it knew well. To the spot it had guarded for so long and where it had almost met its end.

A lone altar stood hidden in the crevasse of a mountain, bearing the body of a long dead soul, beloved by her family but lost in the tragedy that tore their world apart. "Sis…ter." the creature moaned before falling to its knees as the last of the lava fell from its body, leaving him naked and revealed as the man he was beneath, the man he was so many years ago. "It…hurts." The man crawled on his hands and knees like an infant reaching out for its mother as his hand reached desperately for the figure laid to rest on the altar before him. His fingers wrapped around the ebony silk cloth covering the lost Izalith daughter and dragged it down as he collapsed at the foot of the altar. "Dear…Sister." He muttered holding the cloth close and bringing his knees and chest together, finally, at long last drifting off to sleep, lulled by the scent of his beloved sibling.

 **And scene! Pretty lack luster update I know. I just…felt I needed to put one more chapter out before summer was over. So yeah, tiny, eensy bit of plot dump, we meet up with another group of characters who have come together from their shared heartache. A little bit of action thrown in and you've got my style of writing down in a general sense.**

 **I'd like to reinstill you all with a warning, this story will be prone to heavy embellishment. I will for the sake of my narrative make up stuff that a lot of you will call BULLSHIT on. Try to remember this is just me trying to have fun writing a fun little adventure story in Lordran. In short terms: TESTING THE SUSPENSION OF DISBELIEF BABY! You've been warned.**

 **Second: for the Fair lady I utilized what I found was the commonly accepted name for her used by fans. As for our newly awakened character, I came up with his name. And yes it is pronounced KWU-ALE, like the bird.**

 **Drop some reviews and any questions you may have. Till next time!**

 **I do not own Dark Souls, but I'm sure you knew that.**


	3. Meetings Part 1

**Chapter 3: Meetings**

Blighttown, in all of Lordran there can be nary a place that brings on more feelings of dread and disgust to lord or undead alike as this forsaken realm. To the upper section; a crumbling wooden village built into the side of the valley, home to the mutated cannibals who scavenge for scraps thrown from atop the mountain while savagely hunting any unfortunate to step into their domain. To the boggy lower swamp, an infested environment where no creatures more grotesque and savage could be found anywhere. In this realm sickness and savagery reign supreme. Here, you have to be strong to survive or you become a corpse for the mosquitoes and crag spiders to feast upon.

This was the way of life Mildred had known for the vast majority of her unlife. To survive, to be strong, to be alone. Eat or be eaten, in this land nothing else made sense to her but that. And with nothing but a rusted but still wickedly edged cleaver, she carved out her way of life with the corpses of monsters that tried to pray upon her and the Humanity she ceased from those she preyed upon. Man-Eater Mildred they called her, and they knew to fear her and fear her home of which she was the alpha predator.

Secure in her place at the top of the food chain of her environment, Mildred feared only two things.

The first was the Spider's Nest. Whatever Undead could escape or even possibly fight her off always made their way to that place, and rarely did they ever return. Mildred knew to fear the demons that harbored in that cave. They were unnatural creatures with terrible magic that she had no defense against. Though she never actually entered the accursed domain, just getting near it she could smell the demonic scent of brim stone and feel the ungodly powerful waves of heat stream from the cave. Though she was sometimes curious of what lay beyond the Spider demon's domain she was not suicidal enough to try and find out.

The second was a more subtle and domestic threat. The wandering witch in black. Mildred had only ever observed her robed neighbor from afar, never seeking out a confrontation for fear of facing the witch's powerful magic that reminded her of the demon's. And for her part, the witch appeared passive in her exile to the swamp, never causing trouble or disturbing anyone. Most times she only sat on her tiny island of dry land surrounded by swamp water, starring almost longingly at the demonic hovel but never daring to draw near it.

For a time, Mildred saw nothing of her myserious neighbor. Unexpectedly, she one day disappeared down the Spider's hole, leaving the savage undead woman perplexed by her sudden departure, though she did not dread on it long and only expected to never see the witch again.

Which only doubled her surprise when she saw not just the witch but a pack of other Undead escape the cave with her in tow. Based on her bruised and unconscious state as well as the fact that two of the white clothed figures of their ranks were dragging her violently by the arms, Mildred deduced that the witch was not likely being led away willingly. Mildred observed the groups trek to escape the swamp from a distance, hidden within the shadows of the dark valley, and continued watching until they had escaped her range of vision, having taken the wooden mill structure up and out of the swamp, their captive with them.

Though she pitied the witch for her circumstances, Mildred shared no bond with the unnatural woman and allowed the group to go about their business unhindered. Even if she wanted to help, she knew she had no chance against their numbers. Though, Mildred did watch the crimson robed man the closest of all of his group, finding his blood red attire to be fairly familiar.

Once they had departed Mildred pushed thoughts of the day's strange events to the back of her mind. Worrying about the comings and goings of those around her served no purpose for her survival. If one wished to survive they needed to be strong and ruthless. Other people did not concern her, they only served as her means of survival and a brief moment of entertainment as she cut them down or they fought her off. She survived and thrived alone. That was how she lived and that was how she expected to live for the rest of her days.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 _ **Shing!**_

"Hrrruuuuaaaah!"Another lightly armored Hollow pitched forward dead as Oscar removed his sword from its breast, tossing the creature's blood from his sword with a sideways swish before resheathing it along with his dagger. He heard another death moan off to the side, signaling that Rickert had just dispatched the last of the dregs. "That was thankfully simple." Oscar sighed as he carefully stepped over the corpses of the Hollow warriors he and his companion had just slain. Though they had outnumber the pair at eight against 2, their aged and ragged armor mixed with their barely upkept weaponry made them only slightly more threatening than the half naked Hollows back at the Asylum.

"Yes…thankfully." The mage-smith responded sarcastically through his ragged breaths. Being pressed for time as the pack descended upon them, the mage found that he could not find the breathing room he needed to cast his spells even with Oscar taking the front line. He was forced to wield the pale spear they had acquired from their encounters with the demons in order to defend himself, a task he was not overly practiced with. Though he was a smith by trade he was by no means physically capable enough to be called a "warrior" and had to thank the fiends' dull wits and his own weapon's long reach as his saving grace in the battle.

The moment the two had caught their breath after their close victory at Firelink, they immediately set off once again for the Undead Burg. Rickert led the way as they marched up the stairs set into the cliff side and entered on old aquaduct built between the gap of the two mountains. Oscar noticed that the aquaduct led further in, as the gate normally barring entry to the other side was left open. Rickert immediately explained that was not their path nor any kind of place they needed to go near. The moment they exited the brick tunnel they stepped off onto a stone stair well and Oscar was amazed to finally see his first glimpse of civilization as he found himself within a walled off, brick laden township. Oscar peered off the side of the roof they had walked onto and saw the empty street that made up the lower burg, just as deserted as the upper level they were situated on. Rickert motioned for the young knight ahead, explaining they would soon be at a Bonfire where they could stop to rest before taking the ladder short-cup up to the area of the burg where his friends should be waiting for them.

The moment they crossed the threshold of a long abandoned building and wandered onto a large square roof top were they beset by the Hollow pack. They rushed in from two sides, one group from a stairwell to the companions' right and the rest from a guard post ahead of them. The knight and mage instantly found themselves cut off from their destination by the group of the leather armored warriors and though Rickert pressed that they retreat back into the aquaduct, Oscar readied his blades and swiftly felled two of the Hollows by lobbing the head off one with his straight sword before driving his dagger through the rusted helmet and skull of another. Chaos ensued as the knight pushed through the barricade of moaning ghouls. Rickert sighed in exasperation but readied his staff and spear none the less as he joined the fray.

"The Bonfire is just ahead." Rickert pointed out a side tower that, for certain, held the welcoming glow of a bonfire within it.

"Thank the gods for that." Oscar sighed thankfully as the two entered the old parapet and plopped down beside the calming fire, already feeling its warmth breath strength and life back into them. The two took the packs from their shoulders, Rickert taking the moment to inspect their bags in case they had been damaged in the battle, possibly spilling any of the contents within, while Oscar decided to finally look over his equipment, more specifically his sword and dagger. It was worse than he feared. Understandable considering they had been rotting away with him in that Asylum for who knows how long, not to mention the last few battles he had put them through. There was more than a few nicks along his trusted sword's edge and his dagger's point was misshapen a bit at the top. "Don't suppose you packed any whet stones?" Oscar inquired his smith friend, showing his predicament and hoping he'd understand.

To his relief, Rickert chuckled and reached for his own bag, taking out a smaller pouch and tossing it to the perplexed knight. Based on its weight and feel it was likely some type of powder. His suspicions were confirmed and he was struck by the powders mesmerizing golden glow.

"Grab a pinch and sprinkle it over your weapons, armor too." Rickert instructed with an amused grin on his face. Oscar cocked an eyebrow in disbelief but decided to try anyway. As instructed he scooped out a small amount of the powder and began to slowly sprinkle the golden grains over his sword and dagger. To his astonishment, the glowing dust seemed to be absorbed by his weapons and to his very eyes his sword and dagger began to repair themselves! All nicks, bends and dullness instantly disappeared, leaving his weapons in a splendor he had not seen since they were passed to him from his father. No longer in doubt, the knight grabbed another handful and tossed it into the air over him, allowing the gold powder to fall onto his armor. To his joy, he watched as his chest armor, gauntlets, greaves, helmet and even his surcoat were restored to their former glory, possibly greater.

"Repair Powder. Putting hard working smiths like myself out of business since the age before the curse." Rickert explained as he retrieved the precious commodity and returned it to his bag once more.

"So many things in Lordran I've never even imagined." Oscar stated awe filled.

"Wait till you discover Bottomless Boxes." Rickert joked before immediately sobering up. "It's not all fantastical magic and easily dispatched Hollows though. You can't really say you've experienced Lordran till you stand face to face with one of its thousands of nightmarish monstrosities or trials. Believe me, I wouldn't have lasted out here too long if it wasn't for Laurentius and the others."

"Your compatriots. What are they like?" Oscar inquired as he reset his equipment. "More mages like you and Laurentius?"

"Ha! Besides one other were the only ones. The rest are warriors of all kinds. All walks of life. Clerics, knights like yourself, we've even got a fire keeper…not to mention some less than scrupulous characters. But…I wouldn't trade any of them for the world. They kept me alive when I thought I'd die and go hollow all over again. And for that I am eternally grateful."

"Is there by any chance…a swordsman, wielding twin curved swords in your ranks?" Oscar inquired, hopefully.

"Fraid not." Rickert shrugged in apology noticing the knight's dejected stance. "Friend you're looking for?"

"You could say that." The knight admitted.

"Well…I know for a fact that we're not the only sane Undead skirting around Lordran right now. So who knows, your friend may still be out there, surviving like we are."

"Yes…hopefully." Oscar nodded while solemnly starring into the fire.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

'Now this is a sight.' Mildred thought to herself curiously as she quietly waded, half submerged, through the swamp water. Most Undead knew to fear the swamp for the fact that even standing in the toxic waters for too long was running the risk of letting the poison seep into their skin, but a long time swamp dweller like Mildred has affectively built up resistance to her environment's toxic waters, so long as they didn't actively ingest it, which as Undead didn't come as a concern.

Mildred had made sure to keep herself well concealed beneath the waters as she silently waded her way to a small portion of the swamp, a lone island, set in the shadow of the canyon wall. Though concealed by the ragged sack she wore over her head one could see the curiosity brimming in her eyes as they locked onto the struggle taking place on the small inlet.

A gang of Infested Barabarians; large bodied, lumbering undead savages wielding thick wooden clubs and boulders twice as wide and they were, were assailing a lone figure that had mistakenly wandered into their territory within the swamp. It was the intruder that had Mildred's attention. That black cloak was unmistakable to the wild Undead woman, yet she did not believe it was truly the witch. Setting aside the fact that she had just witnessed the witch being dragged away quite some time ago everything about this new figure was completely contradictory to her.

For starters, though they wore similar black robes to the witch, the one beneath the robes was much taller and broader, too tall for the robes in fact as she could see their bare feet poking out of the bottom of the long dress like robe. And besides that, the weapon strewn over the thickly built intruder's left shoulder. Mildred looked at her own wickedly large cleaver and felt strangely disadvantaged by the sheer size of the bone carved axe that this new intruder held up with just one arm.

And lastly and also what made it absolutely clear that this figure was not her very private and evasive neighbor, this fool was actually trying to talk to the brainless beasts currently harassing him.

"I have no business with you. Please, clear a path." The robed man's voice was an oddly level snarl, like he was attempting to be civil but he was also dangerously close to exploding in anger any second now. Obviously, his words rang unheard to the senseless barbarians as one roared in fury as it charged the intruder with its rotten wood club raised high, its brothers joined in on the cacophony immediately as they too pressed in, weapons raised. The robed man didn't even raise his weapon up in defense as the first club struck him across the back, knocking him on his hands and knees. The man growled in pain as he attempted to pick himself up from the mud, but a wide swing coming in from his left halted that action as a vicious crack from a club knocked his head to the side. And still more blows rained down as the barbarians relentlessly assailed their defenseless victim with hammering blow after blow across his back, head, arms and legs.

Mildred frowned beneath her mask, unimpressed. She didn't know what she had expected to happen, but regardless it would soon be over. Any unlucky to enough to fall prey to the barbarians were doomed to be beaten to death and then even beyond that as they almost methodically turned whomever they caught into a bloody, crushed smear across the mud, not even leaving bones in one piece.

His beating had gone on for a good few moments already, if the poor fool was even still alive, or if his brains had not been crushed already, then every bone, muscle and sinew of his body must've been crushed to the point of hollow numbness. For a moment, Mildred hoped the barbarians would let up their beating just a bit this time around. Such comfortable looking robes would be wasted as a part of some bloody puddy beaten into the mud, and that axe would make a fine catch as well, though she felt she may have to fight the fat hollows over that prize.

Then, to her astonishment, a shout called out from within the mob of barbarians.

"Get. Away. FROM ME!"

Mud and gore went flying as the drum-line of smashing clubs suddenly stopped, watching confused as one of their own had his entire upper body blown sky high by their apparent victim's rising swing. Mildred had to hold back a call of shock as the torso of the dead barbarian splashed into the water right beside her, leaving its ownerless lower half to plop useless into the mud. The barbarians ceased their actions just long enough for the black robed man to rise back on to his feet, wisps of black smoke escaping his hooded face as a snarl resounded from his concealed lips.

"Now. Clear a path!" He bellowed out the order as fire billowed from his hood and his empty right hand. Though the words were meaningless to the hollows, his actions brought on the desired effects as the animalistic undead backed away from the fire spewing figure cautiously, but not exactly backing down as they still growled and raised their weapons threateningly at the man. "Move." He ordered one last time as he reset the great axe onto his shoulder.

"Hrrrrrooooooaaaaaaahhhhhh!" The barbarians cried out savagely as they rushed in as one, clubs raised as they prepared to overtake the intruder with their sheer numbers. This time, the brutish hollows were joined by their number that hang back, those carrying massive boulders in their meaty mitts and raised them over their heads in preparation to attack. The hooded intruder snarled irritably at the show of force and angrily clawed to the side with his free right hand, prompting a coiling tendril of fire to erupt from his open palm; which Mildred noted appeared blackened and almost molten, like it had been burned to a near coal like husk from being over exposed to fire far too long. The whip of fire slashed out, striking two of the brutes across their faces, forcing them to reel back in pain as their deformed, dry skin was greedily devoured by the flame. Unluckier than his comrades was a third barbarian who had the unfortunate circumstance of having the fire whip coil about his neck, burning and biting at his neck as he futilely clawed at the agonizing weapon that both suffocated and burned him with such intense heat he felt the skin it touched practically melt away. The poor hollow's suffering was finally ended as the flame finally ate through his neck, severing his head from his shoulders and forcing his lifeless body to fall down, leaving it to be trampled by his still charging kin who continued mindlessly unabated by the intruder's show of might.

"Hraaaa!" The hooded man roared a rage filled battle cry as he swung his massive axe around in a wide swing. The thick, boned carved weapon collided with the fat hip of another charging hollow, sending its torso flying to the side as its body was sliced/smashed in half by the herculean force driving the axe to the side. And just as quickly as it came around, the axe came back, smashing yet another fat hollow to bits like it was no thicker than a stalk of wheat.

On came the mindlessly relentless barbarians and each time they were met by the hurricane force swings of the hooded man and his colossal axe. In no time at all, the club wielders had been reduced to nothing, leaving only the squad of boulder carrying hollows. They had been silently waiting for their opportunity, when they could attack without fear of hitting their own, and within their numbers reduced so it was clear their time had come. As one they sent their massive volleys catapulting through the air, creating a hail of falling rocks that threatened to utterly devastate anything unlucky enough to be near their point of impact.

The intruder stood unafraid as the rain of boulders showered down upon him, many of them after all were falling short of him and or falling around him just far enough that he could easily step to the side and be unharmed. Only one seemed to be on the correct course to potentially fall on him and his covered eyes were locked dead on that particular projectile, his grip tightening around the shaft of his axe.

"Hrrrraaaa!" Snarling like a beast, the man brought his great axe around with all his might, smashing his massive weapon against the hurtling projectile, and instantly shattering it in midair as chunks of rock and powder that exploded outward in all directions.

"I've had enough of this!" He growled hatefully to the remaining hollows as a massive orb of crimson flame ignited in his charred hand. He lobbed the fiery projectile into the throng of barbarians who watched on dumbly as the crimson ball of flame fell between them, and then instantly exploded into a spray of white hot lava that covered them and the entire section of island they were standing on. The barbarians howled in agony as the lava engulfed them, devouring their feeble bodies as the fire stuck and ate away at them slowly, painfully.

Mildred witnessed the entirely one sided battle from her spot within the swamp and her expression became one of awe but also paranoia. Though she has been bested in the past by more than one undead that wandered into her swamp, never had she met a being that exuded so much power and primal fury as this man. She felt both conflicted and excited at the same time. The store of souls and humanity potentially within this one man could possibly sustain her for years to come she could not fathom, but on the other hand, could she really defeat him with just her simple cleaver and brute force. And another fear wormed its way into her mind. If this man remained and continued to rampage, he could very well destroy her way of life, if he didn't light the entire swamp up in flames first.

She would have to stake her entire life on one attack, utilize her advantage of stealth to ambush the intruder before he caught wind of her. Slowly, Mildred waded toward the island, focused solely on the hooded figure with his back turned to her. He still had not noticed her even as she escaped the poisoned water and moved onto dry land, her cleaver in hand, wicked edge gleaming in the fire light and ready to dig into his flesh.

"Hyyyyyaaaaaaah!" Crying out savagely, Mildred pounced.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"This could be a problem." Rickert grimaced anxiously as he stealthily peeked from the top of his stair well to a open air bridge spanning the valley gap between a massive battlement and an inner castle parish. Once the mage and his knight companion had rested up by the Bonfire, they took the nearby ladder up, leading them into a small supply room built under the bridge with the stairwell Rickert was manning leading up onto the bridge from there. The mage was currently peering anxiously at the small platoon of Hollow Soldiers, ghoulish fiends better equipped than their leather clad brethren as they still wore slightly rusted but still intact iron armor, weapons and shields, among other things.

What disturbed him was their actual numbers. He had known that packs of Hollows sometimes converge on areas like these that get more than few regular passer bys, but normally there would be only four or five hollows here, by his count there was over a dozen of the heavily armed dregs milling about up there, with even worse foes hanging back inside the Parish, their destination across the bridge.

"There's more on this side as well." Oscar informed him as he peered across the lower support section of the bridge. Sure enough, a few zombified soldiers could be seen guarding a room that allowed one to bypass the bridge all together, the only issue was…"And not just them. I can see something else further inside the room. Something big." Oscar explained, slightly unnerved by what he saw.

Rickert joined him in observing their current obstacles and then cursed under his breath as he finally saw what made his friend so nervous. "A Berenike knight."

"One of the famed giant warriors of Berenike?!" Oscar exclaimed, albeit silently. Though hollowed, the nearly 8 feet tall, steel clad knight was unmistakably imposing. And in such tight confines and even more dregs nearby that could come running at the sound of a struggle, felling such a foe would be no simple task.

"Yeah, and a pack of Balder knights up top guarding the Altar exit from the bridge. The entire Parish must have been cleared out if all these things are here just to bar our path." Rickert explained in a hushed tone. "My companions were supposed to meet us at that Altar. What in Gywn's name could be keeping them?!"

"Mayhaps they saw such a massive force gather and are currently pondering how best to take it on from their end?" Oscar surmised as he took over Rickert's view from the stairs to get a glimpse of the raggedly armed force of swordsman from the mighty kingdom of Balder. Even with their unique armor set practically ruined by age, their gleaming swords and thick shields seemed to have bested the test of time and appeared just as deadly as had been foretold.

"Maybe, but I don't like the idea of us just sitting here twiddling our thumbs while waiting for one of those things to notice us and bring the hold platoon down on us." Rickert locked his fingers together in thought.

"Well now! A Vindheim mage who doesn't like to sit and twiddle?! The surprises never cease." A feminine, albeit sarcastic, voice light heartedly snickered from the bonfire room to the immediate left of the two befuddled undead. Rickert's head instantly shot up at the familiar voice and scrambled from his spot by the bridge entrance to see if his ears hadn't deceived him.

"By the lords! They sent you to meet us?!" Rickert said dismayed as Oscar joined him, confused by his companions tone until he locked eyes on their mysterious rescuer.

"Well that's a fine hello." The young woman pouted from her seated position at the top of the burg ladder, legs hanging over the ledge and crossed politely. The woman wore a midnight black, high collared coat and equally dark skirt that trailed practically past her ankles, allowing only the tip of her black shoes to stick out under it. She also wore a pair of fingerless gloves, possibly long worn from age. And most unique of all was the wide brimmed, pointed hat she wore atop her head that covered the upper half of her face. By all accounts, Oscar would have sworn this woman before him was dressed in the attire of a witch like those he heard of in fairy tales as a child, this was accentuated by the long, gnarled wood tipped staff she held at her side. The peculiarly dressed woman wiped down her skirt as she rose from her seated position to speak face to face to her apparent charges.

"And after I went to all that trouble of taking the long way around to greet you two."

"The long way around? Wait! Through the Dark Root Garden?! By yourself?!" Rickert sputtered in disbelief as the darkly dressed woman placed a hand on her hip and snorted, amused.

"You underestimate me, smith. After all, Rogue witches like myself make our home in such wilds, if you haven't forgotten? Or were you worried for me?" Rickert clamped his mouth shut and looked away, his face slightly red from embarrassment. "And now as for this one…" Oscar realized that the mysterious woman was looking to him now, head tilted almost curiously.

"Ah, yes!" Believing it best to introduce himself, Oscar removed his helmet and held it in one arm while he place a fist to his chest and bowed politely in greeting. "Oscar of Astora, my lady."

"Haha! Another Astoran gentleman!" The woman snickered to herself and playfully flicked aside an unruly bang on Oscar forehead, causing him to blink in confusion by her statement and actions. "Well, handsome, my name is Beatrice. Rogue witch extraordinaire!" She removed her pointed hat and flourished it out to the side while curtseying in greeting. It was during this that Oscar was able to see the woman's face, and he was struck speechless. Short, wispy pale blond hair that fell wildly around her face. Pale skin that gave her an almost ethereal look. And beautiful, pixie like features that left the normally stoic knight blushing. Witch she may have been, but any who would liken her to the typical hag was a damnable liar.

Beatrice snickered again at his frozen expression and promptly closed his hanging jaw with the tip of her finger. "At least this one keeps his hands to himself." The witch looked out to the lower section of bridge and saw the Hollows and titanic knight that was currently barring their easiest path across the bridge. "Am I to assume that contingent of Hollows we saw gathering on the bridge is still up there?"

"Obviously, otherwise we wouldn't still be here trying to think up a plan." Rickert grumbled, arms crossed as he seemed to refuse looking at the witch as he addressed her.

"And you would have likely done so till you both went Hollow, luckily you have me with you now." She grinned confidently beneath her hat as she placed a hand to the shaft of her catalyst and closed her eyes. Oscar; having gotten over his stupor and replaced his helmet on his head, recognized such actions as her preparing to cast a spell but Rickert merely tutted skeptically.

"Don't think for an instant that I doubt your ability or anything, but even you can't take out Hollows like these without alerting and bringing those up top down on us."

"Hush, smith." Beatrice shushed him as an orb of pale light flickered from the tip of her staff. "For now, I'm giving our dear prince the signal I promised him."

"Prince?" Oscar inquired as Beatrice loosed her generated orb of light out from under the bridge and into the open air, catching the attention of all of the Hollows on and under the bridge.

"What are you doing?!" Rickert cried in outrage as the Hollows directly across from them began moving toward the source of the strange light.

 _ **Twang!**_

"Uuaaarrg!"

"What was that?" Oscar asked as he rushed back to the stair well and peered to the top of the bridge where he heard the death call originate from. He was instantly shocked to see one of the red caped Baldur knights fall to the ground dead, a feathered arrow sticking from the open face of its helmet. Another knight was suddenly caught in the chest by another such arrow, and though it raised its shield in defense of yet another such attack, it was unfortunately met with a soaring orb of fire crashing into its defense and sending the smoldering ghoul down in a fiery end.

"That, Oscar, is our cavalry."

The Hollowed congregation on the bridge had instantly turned to face the attack on their compatriots within the Altar, just as four figures rushed into the altar from the left, weapons raised and began battering against the remaining Baldur's thick shields. Despite the great distance from his vantage point, Oscar could just make out the distinctive equipment of the warriors doing battle with the oncoming Hollow horde. Two of the four rushed forth to face the lightly equipped soldiers, wickedly long great sword and crescent axe cleaving down hollows before they could even reach the altar entrance. The great sword wielder wore the unmistakable pure white, onion-resembling armor of Catarina, taking a forward position as they pushed the oncoming dregs back with their spike adorned shield. Their companion wore the steel armor and robes of Thorolund's warrior clerics and wielded a long hilted, bronze axe which he used to strike down the fool hollows that futilely attempted to push against his steel kite shield. Both heavily armored warriors had created a small but affective barrier as their massive frames kept any hollows from getting past them into the altar and any who tried were cut down by their equally massive weapons. And those that were not advancing or could not were being picked off from a rain of soul arrows and fire balls descending upon them from the watch tower looming over the bridge and its gristly battle. It was then Oscar focused on what was going on within the altar.

The young Astoran knight was shocked to see that one of the undead combatants wore the armor of an Astoran elite knight, just like his own, though perhaps cleaner and more regally adorned where it could. The elite knight was currently dueling with one of the long sword wielding Baldur knights, skillfully thrusting and stabbing with their regal appearing rapier while dexterously warding away the ghoul's own attacks with a round buckler held in their other hand. Just as the ragged warrior would push in for the kill, its attack was pushed to the side off the face of the small shield, but instead of going in for a riposte, as was common, the knight would level their thin blade vertically for a moment before stepping in and riddling the off-guard knight with holes from six, lightning fast stabs. The Baldur groaned feebly before succumbing to its wounds and collapsing to the ground dead. The elite knight sheathed their sword and saluted the dead hollow with a bow before taking the long bow from their back and rushing off to find a point for them to snipe from, as they had before.

The last Bladur was facing off against the most peculiarly armed member of the four, though in that regard, he wasn't armed at all. He wielded no weapons nor wore any armor. He appeared as an aged white haired but thickly muscled man, bare-chested and wearing the thick black apron of a smith. His hands were covered by black gloves and held up defensively as he advanced on the Baldur, who countered his lack of arms with a rapier of his own coupled with a small target shield. The Baldur seemed ready for whatever attack the old man may try as it leveled its rapier in a steady parrying stance, and still the old man moved forward. Oscar would have given a shout of warning had the seemingly elderly smith not suddenly leaped up and smashed his booted feet into the unaware Hollow's chest and face, knocking it completely off its feet and sending it tumbling through the air into the far wall of the altar room. Though it was faint, Oscar swore he heard the old man guffaw heartily at the exchange.

"If you are quite done sight-seeing, we have need of your sword arm, knight!" Oscar heard Rickert call for him and he then remembered the Hollows advancing on his companions down below. He quickly readied both his sword and dagger as he rushed down the stairs and out onto the lower section of the bridge.

"Glad you could join us!" Rickert stated jadedly as he stabbed away with his pale spear, though unaffective it was keeping the approaching spearmen back as it bashed against their shields. However, Rickert was getting tired from the strain and Beatrice; who took a position behind him, was in the midst of preparing a spell. Oscar quickly ran forward and relieved the mage of his forward position. "Anytime, Witch!" Rickert pressed as the hollows were coming closer.

Amost immediately, five points of blue light appeared from thin air and began orbiting the witch who stepped forward smirking. Oscar was about to wave her back when the bullets of light zoomed past him and cascaded against the hollows' shields, shattering straight through them and exploding against the feeble ghouls. One by one, the line of spears clattered to the ground as their owners fell upon the ground, dead.

"A sweet gesture, but I have things well under control." Beatrice patted the stunned knight on the shoulder in thanks as she made her way into the opening to the other side of the bridge. "Now, shall w-." She had just stepped inside when she saw the towering knight looming over her, steel mace raised murderously.

 _ **Crash!**_

"Urrrkk!" Beatrice starred wide eyed as Oscar rushed in after her and positioned himself protectively between her and the steel clad knight. He had at some point grabbed one of the remaining shields dropped by the Hollows outside and was at the moment struggling to keep it raised against the inhuman strength of the mindless giant knight. "Ready your magic, I will keep the brute bust." Oscar explained to her as he suddenly pushed with all his might, forcing the Berenike's mace away and bringing his own sword around in turn. His attack was promptly deflected off the imposing tower shield the heavy knight held up. Oscar growled under his breath and slowly began to slide further inside the room and the knight followed, utterly forgetting Beatrice who stood stock still in shock.

"Oi, get it together!" She was roughly shaken back to attention by Rickert who had his catalyst out and ready. "He's going to need our help." He reminded as he began channeling with his staff raised.

Oscar and the Berenike continued to face off. Oscar couldn't help but feel the numbing pain in his left arm from blocking the knight's overhead blow meant for Beatrice but he bit it back as he kept his borrowed shield raised. The towering knight abruptly ended the square off and charged in, mace swinging. Having little room to escape to, the Astoran had to block the heavy handed blow once again, only this time he was sent skidding back into the wall from the force of the barely deflected blow.

"Is that all you have to offer, giant?" Oscar taunted, more to rouse his own spirits than to mock the mindless knight. The young knight pushed himself off the wall and viciously began crashing his harmless sword against the wing adorned shield his foe held up in defense. Spark flew as Oscar kept up his assault, it was at this moment that Oscar was glad for the Repair Powder Rickert had him apply to his equipment, otherwise his sword would have broken by now. He just had to keep going a little longer, give his friends the time they needed.

The Heavy Knight would have no more of the futile barrage as it finally lowered it shield and brought its mace up in a devastating upward smash that Oscar was just able to block with his own shield, but he was also knocked right off his feet from the force of the blow and worst of all, the aged Hollow shield finally gave out and shattered from the punishment.

"Damn!" Oscar cursed as he crouched defenselessly before the towering Berenike, his left arm dislocated from the blow and hanging useless at his side. The Berenike raised its mace up once more, preparing to end the life of the injured knight.

A sudden impact against its back nearly sent it tipping forward as Rickert loosed his channeled Soul Arrow. Aggravated by the surprise attack, the Berenike turned away from its wounded foe and marched on Rickert who stepped back nervously.

"Hey, Tin man!" Hearing the shout, the Berenike finally noticed Beatrice who had a particularly volatile looking soul mass hovering over her raised staff and fury in her eyes. "Block this!" The knight took the challenge to heart and instantly hid behind its massive Tower Shield. There was no telling how well the shield could ward off sorcery of that level, but Oscar wasn't about to put it to the test as he dashed behind the occupied Berenike and charged for its exposed back with his sword leading.

The thin blade sliced through the weaker area between the knight's chest armor and tasset, sinking into the giant's back and causing it to real in pain, opening itself to Beatrice's spell. Oscar leaped away just in time as the full force of the Rogue Witch's wrath smote the Heavy Knight where it stood, sending it crashing against the far wall with a hole larger than its head centered in its chest. The Knight collapsed at last, its heavy armor creating a harsh ruckus as it fell against the stone floor.

"Hmph, hunk of tin." Beatrice clacked her staff against the floor in irritation as she scowled unimpressed at the mountain of a Hollow that laid dead at her feet.

"Oscar how's your arm?" Rickert asked concerned and it was then that the Witch noticed he was holding his limp left arm protectively while he strained for breath as he winced in pain.

'It's just sprained, is all." He assured them while attempting to stand tall despite the pain. "Has anyone seen my sword?" He had to dive out of the way of Beatrice's spell before he himself was hit, so he had to leave his sword in the thing's back.

"Here." Beatrice stepped forward, holding his sword out to him by the hilt. "Your arm seems to be in poor condition." She observed as he resheathed his weapon.

"As I said, its just-"

 _ **Rip!**_

To the astonishment of the two men, the witch suddenly began ripping fabric from the hem of her dress, until she had a long, rope like bundle in hand. "Hold still." She ordered while passing her staff to Rickert who just barely caught it in surprise. She gently lifted up the knights broken appendage and began wrapping the fabric around Oscar's shoulder and arm until she was finally able to tie it off as a makeshift sling. "That should hold it until we can have the cleric look at it."

"Uh…my thanks." Oscar replied dumbly, surprised by the sudden gesture of generosity.

Beatrice impatiently ripped her staff from Rickert's grip and made her way toward the ladder that would lead up to the Parish above, looking back only to reply. "Mine as well."

Rickert gave a whistle in awe and clapped the young knight on his unwounded shoulder. "She's rarely that nice to people she's just met. You must have made a good impression." The knight looked at him confused, not sure how to reply to such a statement. "C'mon, it's quiet up top so the others must have cleared up that rabble on the bridge. Hope you're ready to meet our friends. I'm sure they're looking forward to meeting you."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Grurrrrrrrr!"

"Haaaaaaaa!"

The Man-eater and her prey were deadlocked as they pressed forward against the other. Mere seconds before Mildred's pounce was able to bring down her target, he instantly whirled around to face her, catching her descending cleaver by the blade with his free hand, instantly stopping the attack in its tracks despite the wicked edge now tearing into his hand. Now seeming to be bothered by the pain at all, the intruder attempted to raise his axe blade in preparation to counter attack, but hi attacker had other ideas as she followed suit and used her own free hand; not to mention adequately great physical strength, to grab him by the wrist and lock his axe in place at his side. The two were even, in strength and disarming locks.

"Why attack me?" The stranger demanded angrily. "What have I done to warrant your hatred?" Though Mildred was now mainly face to face with him at the moment, she still could not make out the man's face beneath his hood. Save, for the piercing, inhuman glare of a single yellow-orange eye practically glowing from within the shadowy veil.

"There is no hatred here." Mildred rarely made a point to talk with her prey, but since this fairly special prey felt like being chatty, she figured she would oblige him. "Nor love, nor sorrow, nor happiness." She said in a sing song manner as she tilted her head left and right in an almost rhythmic manner. "Only Eat or be Eaten. And I wanna eat you!" Mildred suddenly reared her head back only to bring it slamming forward to crash into her foe's hooded face.

The stranger reeled from the sudden surprise blow, loosening his grip on Mildred's weapon for her to wrench it free of his grasp and bring it careening down to slash a wicked line across his chest. The man's axe fell from his grasp as he held a hand to the open wound on his torso from which unusual black blood was pouring out, staining his ruined robes even darker and dripping into the swamp water bellow, causing it to sizzle and boil. But these were details Mildred didn't take long to ponder as she pressed in harder, smashing the heel of her foot into his unguarded stomach, causing him to wrench forward in pain.

She didn't stop there as she savagely slashed him across the arm and then bashed him across the side of the head with the face of her cleaver. Her wounded prey fell back into the swamp, covering himself with his arms as the Man-eater cut at his raised arms with her cleaver again and again. She finally smashed her foot in again, this time kicking him in the face with enough force to sending him crashing back into the swamp, utterly defenseless. Mildred towered over her fallen prey, her eyes hungry beneath her mask. She lowered herself to sit and hold down her opponent as she held out her cleaver horizontally as she gripped the back of her cleaver with her free hand while her right hand still tightened on its grip. She had positioned her blade so that it resembled a hanging guillotine, waiting to sever a head from its shoulders.

The death would be quick and end any pain her foe may have been feeling from the many wounds she inflicted on him. Though the prey managed to keep her entertained for a bit, she was after all the alpha predator of this swamp. All were her prey; no beast in this land could dethrone her.

She could still make out his single glowing eye starring up at her from his downed position. It showed neither fear, nor outrage, nor did it beseech her for mercy. It appeared blank, almost out of focus. Or locked on something she was not seeing.

" **Hisssaaaaaaaarrrrawwwwrrrrr!"**

Mildred's head suddenly shot upward, following the screeching roar that came from directly overhead as a massive form fell straight upon them.

 _ **Crash!**_

Swamp water funneled upward as the massive creature struck the land with a mighty crash. It stood almost 30 feet tall, standing on four scaly legs with a long trailing body with twin bulges set in its length. It had two other legs that acted as wickedly clawed hands, as well as four bat like wings. Most grotesque of all was the gaping rib cage that opened up across its center as a wide maw filled with rows of sword like teeth, dripping with boiling, acid like saliva. Atop the colossal reptilian frame, was a much smaller, lizard like head with beady, acid yellow eyes that glared down at the two humanoids hungrily.

As for the two former combatants; in the spur of the moment, as the enormous, grotesque beast came crashing down upon them, Mildred found herself suddenly lifted off her feet by her former captive and hoisted onto his shoulder as she dashed away and only stopped to throw Mildred to the ground and dive behind cover with her as the explosion of water burst their way.

Mildred was in a mixed state of shock and outrage at having been carried off like some damsel by some stranger she had been only seconds from killing. The furious retort suddenly died in her throat as she saw that her prey's hood had fallen down in their rush for cover, finally revealing his face. It was…nothing she possibly imagined.

Half of his face was fair, flawless pale skin and strong features that almost seemed inhuman by her reckoning. The other half was the exact opposite. Expanding from his eye down to his entire right cheek, his skin was a frightening leathery red that seemed to pulse with heat. The single, glowing orb she saw from within the folds of his hood now seemed to surge as rage contorted his face. His fiery red hair seemed to stand on end as the fury building within him seemed to rise off him as pure heat and steam. The mixture of demonic and elegance Mildred saw on this man beside her, not to mention the heavy sent of brimstone she suddenly sensed hanging around him, reminded her greatly of the witch and the spider demoness.

"I'm boring this." He snarled as he rose to his feet, Mildred's cleaver in hand as his was far from reach, lost in the swamps tides. He marched unhindered through the swamp, eyes dead set on the giant fiend wading toward him with hunger in its eyes. "Hrrraaaaaaahhhhh!" He gave a mighty cry as he charged through the thick waters, grip turning white around the hilt of the cleaver as he brought it to bare and a scarlet orb of flame appeared in his right hand.

"What's that's fool doing?!" Mildred gasped in shock. Even she would never be so fool hardy as to rush such a beast alone. This creature was like nothing in this swamp she had ever faced. But then again…so was the man challenging it.

The mutant beast hissed as it glared down at the tiny being charging straight for it. It raised one of its mighty four legs in anticipation of squashing the pest flat, but was suddenly forced to reel back as a burning stream of fire filtered from the man's open palm, searing its scales and coating them with agonizing lava blisters that did not ease as it lowered the foot back into the swamp water.

The man took advantage of his foes aversion to his flame and lobbed an orb of searing lava that struck one of the things wings. The beast roared in agony and fury as it rose onto both its hind legs until it was towering over the man dangerously. It finally fell forward, crashing its full body down upon the man, utterly smothering him under its great weight.

'Damn fool.' Mildred hissed as she crouched still, attempting to not draw attention to the giant beast who just stole her intended prey and her only weapon on hand. Her efforts were for not in the end as the eyes of the tiny reptilian head locked onto her, a great hunger forming in its slitted pupils. The beast roared in ravenous greed as it charged forward on all six of its giant legs, beelining for the female undead who realized just a little too late that the jig was up.

The beast was almost upon her when suddenly…the waters of the swamp had suddenly begun to boil as several fiery, snake like tendrils shot from out from under the water, harpooning into the beast's flank and wrapping about its legs, bringing it to a sudden halt.

"We're not done here." The inhuman stranger proclaimed as he picked himself up from the swamp and stood mostly unharmed save for the top of his torn and ruined robes, revealing his charred, burning right arm to be the source of the tendrils as the erupted from the cracks and pores of his molten skin. His face was contorted in a demonic grin as his began reeling in the beast toward him and his waiting cleaver.

The mutant creature hissed angrily for being impeded and brought its gigantic tail to bare, bringing it whipping around faster than such a huge appendage should have.

"Hraaaaaaahhhh!" The stranger saw the danger coming and instead of ducking or moving to avoid the coming blow, he snarled and raised his borrowed cleaver into the air. The tail was mere inches from hitting him when he chopped down, cutting into the scaly hide of the tail as it carried him back. The man snarled and roared as he pushed back with all his strength, digging deeper and deeper into the tail. Until finally, it gave way!

" **Hisssaaaaaaaarrrrawwwwrrrrr!"**

The monster bellowed in pain as the vast majority of its tail was cut loose from the base in a spray of blood. The deadened appendage plopped lifeless to the ground as the man stamped down onto his prize. "You won't miss it long, not after I carve away at you piece by bloated piece!" he proclaimed loudly.

But the beast had decided, enough was enough. It roared in terror as it pumped it legs at double pace to get away from the monstrous being before it. The fiery harpoons connecting it to its foe started to give way and began to fall free, allowing the mutant creature to break away from the stranger who began to give chase.

"Get back here!" He cried out in outrage before he suddenly came to a shaky legged stop, gripping his chest where Mildred had cut him earlier and where his black life's blood was still flowing. "Damn. I've taken too much damage." He cursed under his breath as he collapsed onto his knees, his tendrils receding back into his arm. The mutant creature was finally free, giving it the chance to reach the far side of the swamp where it reared up once more and clamped onto the valley wall with its claws and teeth filled maw. It slowly ascended the towering wall, grabbing the stone with its claws and pulling itself upward until it finally disappeared into the shadow of the mountain.

Mildred had witnessed the entire battle from her safe haven upon the shore, and still she was in disbelief of what she had seen.

One man faced down a beast of that size and malice. And in the end, he sent it running in terror. Never in all her years as an undead had she ever seen such a titanic battle between such contradictory foes. And as she waded through the swamp water toward the now fallen and unconscious victor of the battle, she couldn't help but inquire into his peacefully resting face.

"Just what are you?"

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 **Hey guys! I found some time to work despite my school schedule having me really need to think on how I spend my time. I'll admit, not much of an update, but then I'm not much of a writer (Hahahahahaha!) Ahem*!**

 **Introduced even more characters we all love this time around and even if I didn't name them, I'm sure you all can figure who they are by description alone for now. Also, don't think Oscar and our "mysterious stranger" will be the only Undead heroes we follow. There are many factions moving in Lordran right now, and I'm going to give everyone (except for bosses) their own special place in this story. I feel I should also mention the time flow between our two perspectives, don't immediately assume these events are happening all at once. I've yet to actually figure out how but in due time they will be syncronized, until then let's play it by ear.**

 **Quick note though! I will be taking a break from this right now to work on my other story. Don't have an update schedule, never been able to keep one, but all I can say is expect burst of updates from either of these stories until I feel it's time to work on the other one.**

 **I do not own Dark Souls.**

 **Chao!**


	4. Meetings Part 2

**Chapter 4: Meetings (part 2)**

"Kyeeeeeeee!" Shrill cries and the beating of leathery wings signaled the return of a flock of pale demons, each of them bearing a passenger that they promptly dropped onto a lone parapet before the bat-like fiends flew off again unless otherwise called.

"Damned ugly bats!" The leather clad warrior spat as he forced himself to stand on his slightly sprained legs. "Not only do they stink to high heaven and make enough noise to wake the dead. But they don't even have the decency to provide us a softer landing!"

"Unless you've recently gained some means with which to scale cliffs, Rhys, I suggest you cease your childish complaining." The older mage in crimson reprimanded, though he too had to struggle to remain standing after their less than ceremonious landing. "Need I remind you we failed in our mission and only have this unconscious witch to show for it?" He accentuated his point with a gesture toward the still unconscious Quelana who was once again being restrained by the remaining Painting Guardians at their disposal, part of his temper coming from the dread he knew would come while having to explain how they lost nearly their entire group.

"Let's just get this over with!" The warrior named Rhys stated grumpily as he led the meager troupe down the adjacent set of stairs connected to their parapet. As they descended the curving steps, the two undead starred out in wonder, as they often did, at the wondrous city they had taken refuge in. Extravagant estates and manors as far as the eye could see. Architectural wonders that shined gold in the sunlight. And a glorious castle that centered it and was to be their destination, this was truly the city meant for the gods, the magnificent Anor Londo.

Rhys gave a whistle as he had to stop and take in the sights for a moment longer. "I didn't think this place could look anymore like heaven until we had to sit in that stinking swamp for a week, eh Cassius?" Rhys inquired to his companion.

"Indeed." The crimson robed man admitted as he too marveled at the gilded paradise before them. "The gods truly bless us with this honor."

"You see an empty city and mistake it for paradise, how very human of you two." The scathing remark came from their hostage who had apparently just regained consciousness. She then sighed sadly as she added. "Not that I can say Izalith looks any better."

"Don't try anything funny, witch." Rhys warned as he leveled his pike at the young woman's throat. Though she was restrained by the white robed Guardians she was still a powerful sorceress who could easily incinerate all of them with a flick of her wrist.

"Put your weapon away boy." Quelana instructed as she made no move to resist her restraints. "I know well where I am and how well I will fare if I try to escape." Rhys glared at her suspiciously before Cassius coughed, signaling they needed to get moving again, prompting the young warrior to growl in acceptance before taking his place at the head again as they continued to descend toward a narrow platform heading into a large chamber that at one point housed a grand ivory statue but was now shattered into rubble, leaving only a bent and ruined gold spear to identify the statue's model.

"Why have I been brought here?" Quelana questioned her captors who ignored her inquiry as they continued out onto a larger platform, basking them in the sun's rays as the chamber exit let out to naught but open sky. "Why were you two after my sister's Fire Keeper Soul? Anor Londo has the capacity to create a Keeper already, does it not?" Still no reply. "You'll never get it, you know? My brother will see to that." Rhys suddenly whirled on the captive Izalithian, smacking her across the face with the back of his gloved hand, anger setting his face as he ground his teeth in irritation.

"If you keep up that insufferable chatter I will gladly bash your skull in and bring you to the Dark Sun unconscious!" He snarled as the Witch spat out the blood congealing from her lip and grinned up at the warrior with a hint of triumph.

"So its Gywn's third born that ordered my capture? I feel truly honored." Cassius rubbed his temple in exasperation as Rhys flushed red with anger and embarrassment for having fallen into her ploy so easily. He growled in fury one last time as he pulled his fist back, preparing to beat the infernal woman to a bloody pulp then and there, if an armored hand hadn't caught his wrist, gripping it tight enough to cause the grown man to hiss in pain.

"That is enough." The interceptor was a woman clad in medium sized, golden colored armor that seemed to gleam like brass and whose helm was adorned with a large crescent shaped fin. Sheathed at her waist she kept a long, silvery estoc and at the moment she only had her free hand resting on it's pommel as her other one commenced to bend the leather clad warrior's hand back, causing him further pain. "Lady Gwyndolin wishes to meet the remaining daughter of Izalith, intact. You shame yourself and her by striking our guest in her city." The Knightess released the hissing man as she snapped at the remaining painting guardians, prompting them to release Quelana who blinked in shock at the sudden shift in attitude as the two marauders seemed particularly weary of the woman before them.

"Are you insane?!" Rhys snarled as he took a nervous grip on his spear. "This witch took out most of the men _you_ lent us. She's dangerous!"

"If they were lost they were most likely lost due to _your_ incompetence." The Knightess said steadily as she continued to relay commands to the white assassins, ordering them away as she took a defensive position between the men and the pyromancer. "Those guardians were lent to you as security against the dangers of the lower area only. If they died at the hands of our guest then it is because you failed in your objective to invite her to meet with us, _peacefully."_

"You are absolutely right, Keeper." Cassius suddenly cut in, waving his comrade down. "We accept full blame for the lost guardians and will relay our report of what occurred to the Knight Captain Immediately." He bowed respectfully to the brass clad woman, causing Quelana to stare wide eyed at the woman at the title "Keeper".

'So Anor Londo does have a keeper of its own?' The intimidating swordswoman before her hardly seemed fit for the role of the comforting, gracious maidens who mind the flames. But then again, if appearances were what mattered, many would say the same for her dear departed sister.

"That fat monster doesn't-!" Rhys started before Cassius shoved his head down to copy his own bow.

"Silence, you fool!" He hissed to companion. "Don't forget, we are only here because of our alignment with a Goddess's champion. We could easily be cast aside to fight off those barbaric Hollows, alone!" Rhys grumbled impetuously but finally consented with a slight nod.

"See that you do then." The Knightess agreed as she finally took her hand away from her sword. "I will mind our guest, she will be presented to the princess after she has recovered from your…indiscretion." The two men said nothing further as they turned on their heels and marched toward a lone balcony built into the side of the platform. They stepped on to it, prompting some mechanism to activate and cause the middle of the balcony platform to lower. Quelana could only exchange hateful glares with the violent warrior before he and his companion were out of sight.

"I must apologize for our subordinate's dishonorable treatment of you, Mother of Pyromancy." The Knightess addressed the haggard Quelana politely as she bowed with a hand over her heart. "Please allow me to extend some of the hospitality meant for one of your station. My Bonfire is nearby, please use it to rest and recuperate while I send for more…courteous guards." The Knightess offered her hand until she looked down and saw the ruined state of the Izalithian's feet.

"It's nothing, I assure you." Quelana pressed before she was suddenly swept off her feet, shocked by both the strength of the seemingly petite swordswoman as well as the quickness of her action.

"Please forgive my forwardness." The Keeper apologized as she carried the wounded woman bridal style towards a side chamber where the comforting glow of a bonfire awaited.

"…My thanks." The last daughter of Izalith let out, ceasing to squirm in the armored arms of the brass clad woman as she rethought her observation from earlier. Such a kind woman was most deserving of the position of Fire Keeper, as well as the first respectable Undead she had met in some time.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Hey you lot!" Rickert called from his position at the top of the ladder into the parish where his comrades were holed up while Oscar stood waited at the bottom, mulling over the task before him. "We have wounded down here! If the clerics are busy then we need somebody to come carry him up!"

"That might not be necessary!" Oscar hastily added as he set his feet of the bottom rungs and grasped the upper runs with his one good arm. "I think I can manage this." The young Knight wasn't one hundred percent sure of his statement but he didn't really think being carried up a ladder by his soon to be acquaintances would make for the best first impressions. His resolution steeled, Oscar slowly lifted his feet up the lower rungs as he hauled his body one step at a time as he had to hold tight to a rung with his one arm to keep from falling back. The fact that he was wearing fairly heavy armor wasn't exactly doing him any favors either.

Rickert seemed to take his word for it as he had since disappeared from the top of the ladder; most likely to seek out the Cleric Oscar had seen during the battle on the bridge earlier. The Astoran only had a few steps left, though the exertion of having to haul his armored body up with one arm was becoming more difficult the higher he climbed. Just as he was attempting to muster the strength to climb up one more rung a hand bearing a familiar style of gauntlet was offered to him. The young Astoran looked up to see an Undead man grinning down at him, impressed.

"Give me your hand, friend." Oscar felt his strength waning so he didn't think long on the offer as he balanced just enough so he could reach up and clasp the man's arm. The generous stranger pulled as Oscar climbed the steps until he was finally at the top and could crawl up from the shaft the ladder stood in and finally on solid stone again. "You're just as rash as Laurentius made you out to be. A quality I respect in one of my Kingdom's knights." The Undead stated with a chuckle in his voice as he helped the winded Knight to his feet. It was during this time, Oscar looked closely over his benefactor, recognizing him by his gear to be the Astoran Knight he saw fencing with a Balder knight earlier, minus his helm. But there was something more, something about his face that was alarmingly familiar.

The man was handsome, certainly more so than Oscar who always believed himself somewhat plain, with chiseled features that prompted the Knight to recall images of Astoran nobility he had seen in books or had witnessed parading the streets before the humble masses. He also may have been a bit older than the young knight who had become Undead in his mid twenties; though the fact that they were Undead made age practically meaningless. The man had medium length brown hair that was parted to the sides, exposing his forehead and allowing one to notice the gold ring-circlet he wore around his head. Everything about the Astoran Knight before him just invoked further feelings of regality from the man, and it was then that it clicked in Oscar's head. The nights he had prepared for his journey to Lordran after becoming Undead. The hours he spent reading up on everything his country had on the Kingdom of Gods and the notable Undead who journeyed there before him.

"I know you! Prince-!" Oscar was about to cry out before the older Knight gently but forcefully smacked down on the younger's helm, shocking him to silence.

"That can wait till later, once everyone's gathered." The regal Undead instructed as he took Oscar by the shoulder and led him into the shrine like part of the Parish. "And once we get that arm fixed."

"That is…true." Oscar admitted, having not forgotten the aching numbness in his broken limb.

"Good man."

The Legendary Undead led Oscar into the box like chamber the Balder knights had been situated in but had since been cleared out by the sane Undead. The chamber was ornate to say the least, with a statue of a robed woman holding a tiny infant to her bosom, and in the infant's tiny clutch appeared a regal looking straight sword. Oscar recognized the statue as one of the few remaining symbols of the Lord of Sun Light Gywn's first born, a mighty god of war whose true name and appearance had become all but forgotten to humanity. This statue, as well as the ruinous shrine in a small balcony set yard just opposite of the entrance Oscar and his companion came through, gave the impression that this chamber must have been a place of holy reverence for the people and soldiers that once lived here, before the curse took over.

As for the rest of the room, besides the mess of crates and other miscellaneous objects strewn across the place, a bonfire sat at the base of the holy statue, which Oscar gratefully sat down at as the comforting flames eased the pain in his wounded limb. The knight flexed his hand and wrist experimentally before attempting to move his arm at all. After checking his arm over and confident the bones and muscles had been repaired, Oscar untied the strip of black cloth from his limb and shoulder though he was not certain what to do with it now that its purpose had been served. Just handing back the torn off cloth to Beatrice seemed…awkward to say the least.

"What have you got there?" The yet named Undead asked as he noticed Oscar hesitating with discarding the makeshift sling.

"Oh…it's nothing." Oscar stated as he slipped the black cloth into a pouch hanging from his belt. At the very least he should ask if she needed it to repair her ruined gown, so for now he decided to hold onto it.

"Sir Oscar!" An elated call went out as Laurentius barreled into the chamber from the direction the two had just came from; having been watching and assisting the battle on the bridge from atop a high parapet above the room they were currently in. "Glad to see you made it!" The pyromancer and knight clasped hands in greeting. "I hope Rickert didn't give you any trouble."

"Of course not!" The aforementioned mage-smith reappeared at their side as he exchanged greetings with his pyromancer companion. "All the Hollows seemed to have been slain, for now. The others are going to gather up whatever usable equipment there is left and then we make for the Fortress." Rickert explained, gesturing back into the Parish to give Oscar an understanding of their next move. The Knight also noted that the rest of their companions were indeed out on the bridge gathering up the swords, spears, shields and whatever intact pieces of armor they could find on the Hollow Soldiers, shoving them into sacs or quivers on their backs. He also noticed them rummaging through the pouches and pockets of the Hollows, fishing out more shards of gleaming Titanite like the ones Rickert showed him earlier.

The young Undead crossed his arms, perplexed at the sight of highly skilled as well as fairly well armed warriors scavenging for equipment. The rational part of him understood the practicality of relieving these poor ghouls of their now useless equipment, but another part of him, perhaps the sentimental or idealistic part, did not enjoy the idea of acting like bandits even if their 'victims' were Hollows. The Knight had been so wrapped up in his contemplations he didn't notice the figure in clanking, seemingly heavy set armor walking up to him until she was already addressing him.

"Excuse me?"

"Hm…? Huh?" Oscar looked up with a start, finally noticing the Catarina Armor clad Knight standing in front of him holding out a stack of thick, tear dropped shaped shields Oscar recognized as belonging to the Balder's from earlier. Though more shocked at how the 'Onion Knight' had snuck up on him, Oscar was shocked to notice the more personal details of the warrior now that they were face to face.

For starters, the voice with which they had addressed him was incredibly soft and feminine, practically that of a teenage girl, nothing like what he had expected after witnessing the Knights frontal assault on the Hollows earlier, pushing them back with their spiked shield and massive sword. And speaking of their sword, Oscar would certainly point out the sheer size and length of the Bastard sword strapped to the apparent young woman's back, coupled with the sheer weight of her armor and the stack of impressively bulky, not to mention weighty Shields she was carrying. Oscar could simply not believe this entire burden was being carried by a girl that was a head shorter than he was.

"Excuse me?" The young lady Knight repeated, thinking Oscar had not yet heard her. "Would you be willing to hold these for me?"

"Oh! Yes of course!" Oscar agreed as he held out his hand to accept the burden only for his yet named countryman to hold out his arm in protest.

"Sieglinde." The regal Undead said in a reprimanding tone. "Our new friend has only just gotten his arm fixed up. You aren't trying to push your duties on to him are you?"

"N-no m'lord!" The girl named Sieglinde sputtered nervously. "I just wondered if he could hold them for a second while I gather up the remaining armor. I wasn't planning on having him carry it all the way!" It took the gathered men a few seconds to process what the young girl had said, disbelieving even as it finally clicked in their brains.

"I assure you it is no issue!" Oscar shouted all of a sudden as he snatched the stack of Balder shields from the Catarinian youth's hands. Though he had to silently hiss out his discomfort, as these were several relatively heavy shields, the Astoran Knight stubbornly stood as if unabated by the weight. "Where is your fortress again?" He chirped slightly, failing to hide the burden in his voice.

"Uh…Yes!" The unnamed Elite Knight quickly caught on to the situation as he rallied the two mages to action. "Master Rickert, please show Oscar to our base." The mage-smith nodded in understanding as he readjusted the two bags strapped to his shoulders; having relieved Oscar of his own sac of equipment some time ago, and lead the Astoran Undead away as they plodded slowly and loudly toward the inner reaches of the Parish. "Master Laurentius, would you please assist me in gathering up these pieces of armor?"

"Certainly!" The pyromancer enthusiastically volunteered as the two men set to unstrapping the helms and cuirasses; as that seemed to be the only armor mostly intact, from the dead Balder Hollows and setting them aside in piles to be gathered up once their task was complete.

"Then…what should I do?" Sieglinde asked aloud, unsure of when or why her four companions had decided to take her duties.

"Just leave them to their work, Sieglinde." An exasperated sigh escaping her as Beatrice walked up to the petite Knight. "They are but oafish boys suddenly remembering they are oafish men, generous only when they feel they must be."

"Beatrice!" The young girl exclaimed happily as she greeted the older woman with a hearty embrace. "I was so caught up in the battle I had nearly forgotten you had returned. Were you well on your journey? Was it dangerous crossing the Garden alone? What happened to your skirt?!"

"Calm yourself girl!" The Witch laughed good naturedly despite the crushing pressure of the petite but mighty youth's embrace. "It was no more a grand feat for me than dispatching those Hollows were for you. And as for the skirt…it doesn't matter really. Traveling in these old rags has always been cumbersome so it may be time for a change." The sorceress said aloud as she patted down the aged black cloth that was her skirt. "Would you be kind enough to help me find something new?"

"Of course!" Sieglined proclaimed ecstatically as she took Beatrice by the hand and pulled her along after Oscar and Rickert.

Beatrice had to hold tight to her hat as she laughed again. "Easy! The Item box isn't going anywhere!"

Four had already departed and two were still sifting through gear inside the Shrine, leaving the three on the bridge who had just completed their own scrounging duty and realized they were being left behind. "Well now, seems the new blood's already fitting in nicely amongst the young'uns." The muscular, bushy white bearded man spoke aloud as he slung his double bags of spoils over his shoulder. "He seemed like an alright lad, if not a bit dull. What do you make of him Sealer?" The shirtless Smith addressed the man adorned in Crimson robes beside him. The man wore a hood and white "Plague mask" that hid his face from view and thus made his expression unreadable.

"I cannot say much at all as I, unlike you Master Smith, do not listen in on conversations I am not a part of." The Masked Sealer said in a huff as he adjusted the quiver full of straight swords strapped to his back. "Though, from what I have heard from young Laurentius, it seems our little troupe has taken in yet another recklessly brave or foolish Knight. I only hope he is not nearly as brash as that insufferable man in Black Armor was."

"Now Ingward, you can't say having a few loose cannons isn't good for morale, eh? Guhahahaha!" The aged Smith gave a hardy guffaw as he clapped the elderly Sealer on the back, a bit too hard maybe as the crimson robed man started to grumble painfully as the two departed alongside their last companion, the battle adorned Cleric who held his great crescent axe against his shoulder while he held a clinking sac full of gear in his free hand as he trodded along after the two older men, seemingly remaining stoically silent as they continued prattling on.

"Does it not disturb you though, Andre? Why it was these Hollows chose to move here at this particular moment?" Ingward inquired to his bulky companion, a hint of conspiracy in his tone.

"Aye. The Hollows have been acting far too strange for this to be a coincidence. It seemed like every well armed Hollow in the Parish was flushed out just to stop us from meeting up with those two boys." Andre shared his friend's suspicion. Lordran was dangerous enough when the Hollows only acted and appeared randomly. If somehow they were beginning to become organized…? "Well it's not all bad. Oi, Nico, I ever tell you about the massive red Drake that used to make its home near this very bridge? Imagine if that beastie was still soaring the skies and found us making trouble at its roost."

The Cleric's only response was an audible gulp as he gave a visible shudder at the thought.

"Move it you old fogies or you'll be left behind!" The Elite Knight and Pyromancer seemed to have finished their work in the Shrine as each carried sacs filled with the intact Balder loot. It had been the regal Knight who gave the call, having reequipped his helmet as he waved for the trio to hurry. Nico instantly broke into a quicker trot, not wanting to be called an old fogie when he was likely far younger than the Astoran.

"The prince calls." Andre gave a laugh as he quickened his pace a bit to keep up with the younger warriors. Ingward still lagged behind in the end, sighing in defeat as he was aware of how much his age had caught up to him.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Are you faring any better, Lady Quelana?" The Fire Keeper asked from her leaning position against the chamber wall. The Knightess had brought the wounded and weary Pyromancer to what she claimed to be her "quarters", though it seemed far too Spartan for the black robed woman to believe anyone lived here. The chamber itself was just a small, square hovel centered with a bonfire, nothing more nothing less. Though the Knightess had been kind enough to provide her with a soft cushion so she would not have to sit on the cold floor, the fact that the Brass armored woman called this un-accommodating room "home" struck Quelana as quite the lonely predicament.

"Yes, I'm feeling much better." Quelana assured her as she delicately massaged her no longer blackened and burnt feet. "I should be able to stand on my own now." She stated as she pulled herself to her feet once more. Her legs buckled slightly but she was ultimately able to stand tall again without toppling over.

"That is good to hear." The Keeper nodded but then gestured for Quelana to sit back down. "For now, please continue to rest. Your escort will arrive to show you to our master any moment now." The Knightess explained, not moving from her spot.

Quelana did as she was bid but continued to cast a questioning gaze to helmeted woman. "Why was I brought here?" Quelana finally asked. The two Undead from before were stoically tight lipped about the reasons for their actions, but she hoped this one would at least give her something, to illuminate her fate.

"I am…sorry." The Knightess breathed out. "I am not at liberty to say. What is to be discussed is for you and Master Gwyndolin alone. I cannot say more."

Quelana sighed in defeat as she pulled her legs to her chest. Her mind swam with thoughts of her brother. Dear Quael, so devoted a brother was he that he held onto what little of his mind that he could after succumbing to the Chaos's corruption and guarded both the remains of their sister but also stood tall as the first sentinel against any further demons leaking out of Lost Izalith. Her desire had been to help him fully regain his old self, to help him fight against the demonic nature that scarred his body. But she was now miles away from him, leaving him vulnerable and at the mercy of an unholy rage not his own.

And then…she thought of Eingyi. Poor, loyal Eigyi. Her's and Quelaan's beloved attendant, murdered before her very eyes, by those bastards…

"Are you alright?" Quelana was suddenly snapped from her seething state when she felt an armored hand grip her shoulder. Unconsciously, her hands had began to release smoke as tiny orbs of flame formed in the palms of her hands, reacting to her anger. The Knightess seemed to look down at her with concern as the pyromancer extinguished the flames she had unknowingly produced and shook the dark thoughts from her head.

"I am fine. I apologize if I alarmed you." Quelana bowed politely in apology as the Keeper removed her hand from her shoulder

"You're escort is here, my lady." The Keeper delicately helped the still injured woman to her feet as she showed her to the exit of her chamber. "He is an Undead like myself and those two from before, but unlike them he is one of the Princess's guard and proven his dedication to his role."

"Don't lie to our guest, Keeper. I'm nothing special." The Undead that greeted the two women was an odd sight for the Pyromancer to see.

'He's a bit short to be a Silver Knight.' Quelana thought to herself. The man did indeed wear the gleaming silver Armor, mantle and wing horned helmet of one of Gywn's ancient silver Knights. Though he was not short by any means, he was actually tall by most human standards, but considering the demi-god warriors of Anor Londo usually grew to heights greater than any human, it was simply an amusing sight to behold such a "short" member of such an elite order of half giants.

Quelana stepped forward as she glanced over her new escort. She could not see his face as it was obscured by his helm, but she noticed an odd tenseness in his posture. He seemed to stand tall and resolute, as any good knight should, but it seemed so…forced, as if he were on the verge of hunching forward lazily any moment. "Greetings, Sir…"

"Gilmore or just Knight will be fine, Lady of Izalith." The Knight stated tiredly. "I stopped caring what people called me a long time ago."

"I wish you well my lady. I pray your meeting with our Princess goes well." The knightess nodded to the last daughter of Chaos respectfully and then turned her helmed head to "Gilmore" and starred long and hard at him. Judging by the Silver Knights reaction to hold up his hands in either understanding or surrender, Quelana assumed the Knightess may have been glaring at him and it was something she did a lot.

"This way, my lady." Gilmore motioned for Quelana to follow him as the Fire Keeper descended back into her lonely chamber. The pyromancer cast the silent woman a pitiable glance as she followed Gilmore onto the same descending platform Rhys and Cassius had left on before.

"Try not to feel too sorry for her. She chose this life after all."

"Excuse me?" Quelana gasped as the Knight seemed to guess exactly what she had been thinking.

"The Fire Keeper chose a life in service to the gods, as was her desire." Gilmore elucidated as their steady descent into the depths of a hollow tower brought them to a set of twisting stair cases descending further downward. "She would no sooner curse her lonely fate than she would spit in the face of the gods. To her they would be one and the same." Gilmore lead Quelana out of the tower out onto open air bridge where one could see the surrounding manors and buildings up close as they flanked the bridge leading toward the palace which was directly ahead of them. "So you should not pity her, I say. If at all she seems lonely or pitiful to you, it is something she wants no one to see or know about." The Knight pressed forward across the bridge while Quelana followed close behind, puzzling over the odd crank and yet another descending stair case built into the wide middle section of the bridge they were crossing.

"You seem quite knowledgeable of her." Quelana pointed out, interested by the Knight's self assuredness over the feelings of their tight lipped Keeper.

"I was a Knight long before I became an Undead." He explained as they (finally) ascended a peculiar set of stairs that seemed to be built for two different sizes of people, two opposite sets built for humans the wider, middle most section built to supposedly accommodate giants of some sort. Quelana finally understood why as they reached the top.

Standing at attention; adorned in clean, almost polished golden armor, were a pair of towering giants equipped with halberds and thick shields that were as tall if not taller than they were. The giant sentinels made no move or reaction as the two passed by. Gilmore seemed particularly unconcerned as he continued on talking. "Being in the service gave me a keen sense for those I worked under. It helped me understand who I should side with and who I should never cross on pain of death. It was also the reason I decided to throw my lot in with Anor Londo when those bats picked me up and brought me here."

"You were…brought?" Quelana inquired as the giant double doors of the palace suddenly grinded open, revealing a massive, grand hall within.

"Unlike you, I was meant to be a captive instead of a guest when those winged freaks scooped me up. I was given the choice to either join the ranks of the god's "Finest" or perish." Gilmore recounted emotionlessly as he led his charge further into the hall, passing yet another giant pair as they ascended one final slope of stairs. "I obviously took the route less painful, gritted my teeth through whatever menial task they had me perform and now find myself fairly comfortable as a palace guard, giving our honored guest the grand tour. Speaking of…" Gilmore stopped at the top of the stairs before a massive entry way that was obscured by a white veil of fog, bowing respectfully as he gestured for Quelana to continue. "We have reached the end of our tour. The princess awaits you within."

Quelana hesitated at the fog gate, unsure how a meeting with the mysterious Darksun would go. When Gywn's troops came to subdue the Demonic scourge born from Izalith centuries ago, she had already long fled from fear and shame. She had never met Gywn nor any of his court as only her mother, the Witch of Izalith, held any connection to the world lit resplendent light. Perhaps at one time, her mother could have told her siblings and she of how to compose oneself amongst the lords of Anor Londo, but that time sadly never came.

"Do not fear." Gilmore nodded to her assuringly as he began to march back down the stairs, likely returning to his true post. "You are here by Gywndolin's invitation. So long as you show her the respect she is due in her own home, she will not harm you."

"My thanks, Gilmore." Quelana nodded as she reached for the fog.

"Oh! One last thing if I may." The silver clad Knight seemed to recall. "The Knight's the Darksun keeps by her side are not nearly as kind as our dear Keeper. Try not to look them in the eye." With that, the Undead quickly descended the stairs and hurriedly marched out of the hall, leaving a confused pyromancer to step through fog, into another, smaller, chamber adorned with pillars connecting the floor and ceiling and polished glass windows looking out to the side of the room, allowing one to see even more of Anor Londo.

Quelana instantly stopped in her tracks after escaping the fog. Though she had never seen nor known the Dark Sun by appearance, she instantly knew none of the occupants of this room were the lord who summoned her.

Three men, each armed and wearing drastically different sets of armor and weapons.

One, wore an audacious looking cuirass made up of asymmetrical plates and straps with a snarling lion's head as his left pauldron (This sounds oddly familiar to me for a different reason than you'd think.) along with leather pants and gloves. The man seemed to leer at her through his slotted helmet, carefully and lovingly polishing a long, wickedly curved blade; of understandably Eastern origin, with a black hilt.

The second wore armor more familiar to Quelana, though it too was odd. The armor he wore was a bright gold, like the Keeper's but perhaps more gaudy. It consisted of equally gilded gauntlets and leggings, a chain tasset, a breast plate meticulously designed with a pair of arms wrapping about the wearer's chest and a covered helmet topped with horns across the crown. The warrior also seemed to glance over the new arrival as he leaned against one of the pillars supporting the ceiling, a pair of sickles attached to his belt.

The last was no mystery to Quelana. Having been told many stories from Anor Londo by her mother and or travelers passing through the swamp, she had no reason not to recognize the black sheep of Gywn's order. "Hehehehe!" The seemingly obese half giant rumbled as he jumped from his perch from further into the chamber, causing the entire room to tremble as his massive frame hit the floor. His associates grumbled irritably at the racket and shaking as the executioner hefted his gigantic war hammer onto his shoulders, leering down at Quelana mockingly. "So the mud witch finally makes her appearance in our great city." The monstrous man's rumbling voice was positively dripping with malice and a hint of insanity. Despite the peaceful expression his oddly tiny helm displayed, the young woman could not help but imagine the psychotic expression this inhuman monster was making as he peered down at her. "And she's quite fetching as well. What do you think, Champion? Have I got a chance?" The gilded Knight scoffed at the question, muttering the word "pig" under his breath.

The executioner suddenly leaned in, causing Quelana to back away fearfully until she stopped at the currently solid wall of fog. "My lady I must say, you smell absolutely…" Smough took in a long and exaggerated whiff of the air around Quelana as he snickered again. "Delicious."

"Enough! Cease this nonsense at once, Knight Smough." A feminine yet powerful voice suddenly resounded across the chamber, prompting a thwarted groan to escape from the executioner as he obediently stepped aside, revealing at last, the current ruling Lord of Anor Londo, in all her glory and pride.

"Greetings, Quelana: Mother of Pyromancy, Daughter of Quel: Witch of Ilazith. The Dark Sun, Gywndolin, welcomes you to her Kingdom."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 **Hey there folks, great to be back after that long break. Sorry to start us off this time around with only dialogue, my meager comedy and a lot of exposition, but have no fear because I'm going to get right to work on a bit of a mini update for you guys that should provide you with the action I'm sure many of you are craving. Get your Ashen Mist Hearts ready (Crap! That's totally the wrong game...SCREW IT!) cause we're popping back to check on an old friend and see how he took to the monster infested scape of Lordran. Prepare for action, friendship and me pushing the limits of how much BULL$#! & you guys are willing to accept. Till then, tell me what you think for now and keep those reviews coming to guilt trip me into updating sooner. **

**Tata!**

 **I do not own Dark Souls.**


	5. Flashback: Twin Blades in the Sunlight

**Flash Back Chapter: Twin Blades Flashing in the Sunlight**

 **1 Year Ago**

The barrier of white fog slowly gave way as the Undead's leather wrapped hand penetrated the obstruction, causing it to disperse slightly and allowing him to step through, back into the sun and open air. The Undead surveyed his surroundings, waiting for the next foe seeking to impede him and come charging to their death. All was quiet though.

The ruined bridge held no foe he could yet see. The only danger that came to mind was the odd chance the bridge would crumble any second beneath his feet, sending him crashing down into the thick forest below. Across the stone walkway stood a lone parapet, likely a path leading deeper into the massive fortress. In the far distance, he could see yet another bridge, longer, wider and appeared to be in better condition than the one he was currently hesitating at.

Minutes of disturbing silence had suddenly passed and still nothing. The only movement came from the swirling mist of the fog door behind him, which he noted had become far more solid and impassable than it had been before. Not that he planned on turning back.

After he had avenged the ill fortuned Knight who had freed him from his cell and escaped the Asylum, the Undead wasted no time after touching down in Lordran and restoring his human form. Following the Knight's story, as well as the advice of a particularly crest fallen man he had met in Fire Link, the Undead Swordsman set out in search of the "Bells of Awakening" and decided he should head for the mountains peak while he was mid way up the mountain instead of starting from the bottom.

During his march through the, likely once thriving, Burg he had cut down every Hollow that dared impede his path; though he narrowly avoided being crushed by the talons of a massive Drake that clawed at him as soon as he neared the Township's central seeming area as well as spared the only ghoul still lucid, though not entirely sane, in that forsaken place.

And though the lone Black Knight that acted as sentinel in the Burg gave him what could be considered an actual fight, the massive weaponry and masterfully forged armor of the demi-god were nothing against his lightning fast swordplay, leaving the blackened warrior as dust as he pressed onward.

Thusly, he had no reason to turn back to a dead and crumbling Burg. The Undead inspected the twin scimitars sheathed on his belt, drawing them half way from their sheathes as he checked them for any nicks or breaks; but his trusty blades still gleamed with a deadly perfection despite the multitude of Hollows they had vanquished over the last few hours. Next he inspected his hidden weapons, patting down his manchettes and feeling several reassuring weights from within their folds; they would be sufficient till he could replace them. Lastly, the Undead checked the gift he received in the Asylum, lifting the glowing flask from the strap on his belt and suspecting he had a few gulps left before the essential boon ran completely empty. His equipment was in fine condition and his path was clear. He continued to press forward across the bridge.

And it was not until he was even half way before he realized the danger. The parapet entrance ahead of him was suddenly obscured by a barrier of white fog, the same as the fog door behind him. His senses suddenly went on high alert as he realized too late he walked into ambush, cursing the lack of wind not blowing the unmistakably demonic stench of sulfur and rot his way until he was too close.

 _ **Crash!**_

" _ **Groar!"**_ Landing with a heavy impact that shook the treacherous structure of the crumbling battlement, a thick mass of solid muscle and brick red fur pounced from its hidden perch atop the parapet, its hook horned, bullish countenance barking out a guttural snarl at its latest victim. The massive demon was a head shorter than its cousin back in the asylum, but it was still more than twice as tall as the Undead and possessed bulk and muscle to justify wielding the gargantuan, fossilized greataxe it so tightly clutched in its claws. Each bounding step the demon took shook the structure, bringing it closer to the Undead who was swiftly contemplating his options.

Fighting the bull headed monster straight on could easily prove fatal. Not only could one heavy handed blow from that axe likely shatter his body, it could also just as easily send him flying off the side of the bridge to meet his death against the forest floor below. In his previous bouts against the greater demon and the Black Knight, the swordsman was not ashamed to admit he held distinct advantages over both foes. The Asylum demon was slow, not to mention far too bulky for its own good and most importantly: stupid, so using its mass to attack the hideous jailer's exposed flank from safety was no serious feat. As for the more precarious Knight, it had been the Undead who had initiated the fight with an ignoble sneak attack and lured the mindless wraith to a stage where the swordsman's reflexes and speed could easily overwhelm the powerful but ultimately lead footed Hollow. He would have no such advantages within the confines of this thin platform.

His other option was to run back to the parapet and somehow scale its front in hopes of gaining the high ground advantage over the brute. This course of action was momentarily dashed, for just as soon as he shifted his foot back in preparation to sprint away from the oncoming Taurus Demon, the Undead heard an unmistakable "click!" and "twang!" combination of sounds, forcing him to instinctively duck his head down and to the side as a bolt whizzed over his shoulder and stuck in the stone at his feet.

"Blast!" The Undead Swordsman cursed under his breath as he registered two sets of grunts most likely belonging to the pair of Hollow Crossbowmen lying in wait on top of the other parapet behind him. Climbing the structure and slaying those two would waste time and energy he didn't think he could afford to expend as the bull monster was getting even closer. Still, the parapet was still the better option by far, he only needed to gain himself time to make for it and end the two pests currently occupying it. Now the demon was so close he could practically see his reflection in its hateful, yellow eyes.

They made for the perfect targets.

In a single deft movement, the Undead quickly crossed his arms in front of him and dexterously retrieved a pair of small, leaf shaped blades barely longer than his fingers from the hidden stitching of his gloves. The Undead quickly started to backpedal, keeping his head low so as to make it a harder target for the archers behind him. The Taurus demon held its axe out horizontal in front of it, hunching forward as it charged in faster to bowl over its slowly retreating prey. The Undead noticed the beast's head lower just enough, and then he flicked his arms forward, sending the miniature daggers flipping through the air toward the charging demon.

 _ **Shunk!**_

" _ **GROOOAAARRR!"**_ One knife, unfortunately, bounced off the skull like surface of the monster's head. The other blade, thankfully, hit its mark perfectly, piercing straight into the beady eye of the bull and prompting it to call out in pain and distress as half its field of vision went dark, causing its goring charge to come to a staggering halt. The Undead didn't waste any time turning on his heel and bee-lined straight for the tower, dodging another volley of bolts by a step as he reached the aged ladder standing just inches from the entrance he came out through.

The Hollows were still in the process of reloading their crossbows when the Undead quickly scrambled up the first few steps only to suddenly vault over the last few onto the parapet roof with his hands already reaching for his blades.

Instinctively, the Hollow soldiers abandoned their ranged weapons and quickly unsheathed the straight swords at their sides to engage their now up close and personal prey. One of the ghoulish soldiers went straight for a highly telegraphed stab while the swordsman still had his scimitars in their sheathes.

In the end the Hollow's stab amounted to naught as the Undead swayed his upper body to the side, causing the long blade to pierce only empty air as he retaliated by drawing his sword in a reverse gripped upward slash, taking the Hollows arm off and leaving it defenseless to the man's second blade flashing free of its sheath to cleave the zombie's head from its neck.

The Hollow's partner fared no better as its avenging strike was easily deflected by the swordsman's cross guarded swords directing the harmful blade away and out of its owner's grip. The last Hollow was quickly dispatched by a double diagonal slash straight through its withered breast plates and quick boot to the chest as its un-life faded. Pest now out of his way, the swordsman knew he could take a bit more time with how he dealt with his half blind friend now sniffing him out from the bridge below.

The bull demon's agony had quickly turned to fury after it recovered from losing one of its eyes. It immediately discerned its prey had fled up the stone parapet for sanctuary as it stomped toward the structure with its nostrils flaring and its axe pulled back to strike.

 _ **Wham**_

The demonic weapon shook the structure from the force of the two handed blow, but did not fall. However, the attack seemed to draw the human warrior from hiding as he stood on the ledge of the parapet directly above the demon, holding one of his thin blades in one hand and what seemed to be a tiny vial filled with odd golden liquid in its other. The demon did not have the brains nor patience to dwell on the Undead's gear for long as it glared up hatefully and crouched its muscular legs, pumping them with power as it prepared to pounce.

The Undead had just uncorked its odd vial when the beast pounced, leaping upward to a height almost twice its own and positioning its axe so that it would reach through the broken off section of the parapet and catch onto the walls to support its weight. The demon had just secured its hold onto the tower and prepared to climb up, when it finally noticed the Undead had in fact poured the golden resin from earlier onto the face of his blade. The thin curved sword was now giving off sparks of angry yellow energy and was positioned in both the swordsman's hand and pointed directly at the bull's face. The last thing the Taurus demon saw was a flash of gold like a bolt of lightning before its world went completely dark.

For demons born in Chaos and madness, fear isn't an emotion they come by often. Being monstrosities whose base instincts demand that they grind anything that breathes into dust, the only instances they gain an understanding of fear is in the final moments of the prey they've slaughtered. From saucer like eyes to trembling hands, speechless fear or terror stricken screams, these were the only examples of fear the Demons knew.

Suffice to say, having gorged itself on the souls and slaughter of many Undead before now, the now blinded Taurus Demon's shriek of terror as it slipped from the parapet was spot on when compared to those of its victims.

The Undead watched emotionlessly as his once imposing foe crashed back to the platform below, whimpering like a frightened animal, its clawed hands fumbling for something in the total darkness that had become its existence. But its weapon was lost to it, having been left stuck against the parapet walls, and there was no one here who would come to its aid. Only 'Death' had come to meet the pitiful beast, dropping silently from the tower above with blades in hand.

The creature instantly ceased its despairing whines as its keen senses locked onto the sound of footsteps and a familiar scent. Its nostrils flared as hate filled its mind, every fiber of its being desiring to lash out at the man that crippled it, that stole the light from it.

" _ **Groar!"**_ The creature sprang up onto its haunches and swiped out with its claws, its massive meaty hands following its senses toward where its prey should be. And then…it felt yet again the agonizing bite of steel cutting through its flesh, its far reaching claws suddenly disappearing in an instant. The Demon reeled back as it held its fingerless hand close to its chest, guarding itself as it tried to find its foe's position once more.

A sudden stabbing pain in its leg answered that question for it as it felt two blades slice into its thigh, gouging the flesh and letting black blood spray out. The Taurus demon roared furiously as it blindly flailed its trunk like arms in hopes of hitting something, anything. But all it hit was empty air and already two new scars were being slashed into its exposed chest, forcing it to back up once more and escape the unseen threat. It stopped dead in its tracks as its foot slid off into what felt like open air, in its blind fury it had been backed up towards the side of the bridge and now it had one foot hanging over the side!

 _ **Splurt!**_

The demon howled in fright as the wounded leg it had been standing on started to convulse, blood streaming out as the weakened limb collapsed under the weight of the muscular body it held up. The creature slipped, falling backwards off of the bridge with its arms flailing for some sort of hold. And just as its fingers felt the cold stone of the bridge and its black heart soared in joy, it heard one final ring of steel cutting through meat and its useless hand slipped from the stone wall with its fingers severed at their joints.

" _ **Ruuuur!"**_ The Demon Bull, that had terrorized the Undead Burg up until this day, gave one final howl of despair as it plummeted to the forest floor below. The triumphant Undead watched his opponent fall until it had disappeared into the canopy of trees, landing unheard as it likely met its end with a sickening impact against the ground. The Undead Swordsman sighed as he flung the black blood from his blades before returning them to their sheathes. He did not feel the need to rest after such a taxing battle, nor did he revel in victory as wave of souls washed over him and filled his body like air would fill his lungs. He did not wish to linger, so he pressed on, across the ruinous platform and deeper in the bowels of the aged battlement.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The Swordsman did not spend long within the stone frame of the structure before he was back outside again, on a lower balcony-like platform that allowed one to bask in the open air as the sunlight rained upon them from on high. This balcony was on the same floor as the bridge the Undead had seen from the upper platform some time ago, separated by a massive gate likely meant to be open and closed by command of those who waited across the bridge from the Parish. And this gap spanning structure was currently infested with a small platoon of Hollows.

The Undead narrowed his eyes irritably as he scrutinized the next obstacle set up before him. Besides the mindless soldiers standing guard, the Undead noticed several charred corpses scattered across the bridge, all seemingly heading towards the Parish and failing to reach their destination. There were also scorch marks that reached the very foot of the platform just out of the gate in front of him.

The Undead thought long and hard on the evidence he was able to compile just by a few moments of scrutiny. In the best case scenario, the Undead Swordsman may have to deal with another annoying group of Hollow bombardiers trying to pelt him with their Fire Bombs. Another possibility could be that the bridge was equipped with an oil trap that the instinctually habitual Hollows had continued to routinely replenish and activate when they saw any enemy draw near. The last, and most likely occurrence, was the one the Undead feared most. Though he hoped it would not be so, it was becoming very likely that he'll have to finally square off against a certain flying lizard very soon.

The Undead paced as he weighed his options on his next move, realizing he would have to make a decision soon or lose more time he didnt want to waste. In his pacing, the swordsman spotted a figure from the corner of his eye, standing at the edge of the balcony and starring outward…no upward, as if at the sun.

'A Hollow?' He pondered as he cautiously set a hand to one of his blades and approached the figure slowly. The figure continued to pay him no mind, even as the swordsman had crept close enough to look over the Knight from the side, taking him in.

The Knight's armor on close inspection, though unique, was ultimately unimpressive to behold. It consisted mostly of iron chain mail with an unremarkable white surcoat that extended under his black leather belt as a ragged seeming skirt. The surcoat was further decorated by a yellow and red sun symbol; that looked as though it had been painted on as the face depicted upon the orb was like nothing the Undead had seen before, and a grassy green mantle that draped the Knight's shoulders. The Knight's helm was cylindrical in shape and also made of iron with twin slits for the eyes to peer through and a red feather to top it off, likely meant to seem majestic. Besides the Knight's armor he was also equipped with a sturdy and likely deadly Straight sword that was currently still within its sheath and a wide shield strapped to his back depicted with the same symbol as was on his chest. The unimpressive, yet still moderately good quality seeming, gear coupled with the warriors fairly large and likely heavily trained physique…if this were a Hollow he would likely be the most dangerous Hollow the Undead had come across. Possibly more so than the Black Knight.

The Undead took his hand away from his sword and began to slowly lower his hood as he drew nearer to the seemingly unhostile individual. He gave out an audible cough as he stood behind the Knight, finally pulling him away from his trance like state to stare back at him.

"Ah, hello!" The Knight greeted in a jovial tone. He seemed to glance over the swordsman for a brief moment, taking in the aged but strong features of his human face, the life brimming from his brown hair currently tied into a pony tail and pausing only for a second at his odd firey orange eyes but finding them to be adequately sane and still filled with human will. "You don't look Hollow, far from it!"

"Nor do you." The Swordsman returned, peering into the slits of the helmet enough to see fairly human-like eyes staring back at him.

"I am Solaire of Astora, an adherent of Sunlight." The Undead introduced himself, turning to face his fellow adventurer at last and bowing in a polite greeting to which the Undead returned in kind. "Now that I am Undead, I have come to this great land, the birthplace of Lord Gywn, to seek my very own Sun!" Solaire declared without really being asked.

'Astora…' Though he had never been there, the far traveled Undead had heard much of Astora and its legacy of honor and regal heroism. And as his mind thought of that far distant place an image of a weary and wounded young soul filled his thoughts. The swordsman had long discerned the lad's origin by the gear he wore and could not help but compare his new acquaintance with that unfortunate Undead, and on reflex he gripped the Estus flask attached to his belt.

Solaire noticed the shady Undead's pause and coughed awkwardly despite himself. "…Do you find that strange?" The swordsman seemed pulled out of his ponderings by the Knights inquiry and reflexively started to apologize before he was cut off. "Well, you should! No need to hide your reaction. I get that look all the time! Hah hah hah!" He shifted as if to turn away and end their conversation before the Undead tapped him on the shoulder, his expression unjudging.

"Many have come to this land seeking all manner of things be it glory, riches or even salvation from our curse. If you say you have come to claim something only a god has achieved before, then I won't question you. A goal is important only to the one who chases after it. I too have a mission some might call…impossible to achieve. So no, I do not find that strange."

The Knight seemed to perk up quite a bit by the Swordsman's thoughtful and wise words. "So I didn't scare you?" The Undead shook his head prompting the Sunlight adherent to chuckle in relief. "I have a proposition, if you have a moment." The Undead's expression did not change, he simply continued to listen.

"The way I see it, our fates appear to be intertwined. In a land brimming with Hollows could that really be mere chance? So what do you say? Why not help one another on this lonely journey?"

The Undead's focused expression suddenly became downcast as he pulled his hood back on, obscuring his face once more in shadow. "I'm afraid I must decline." He replied sadly, not missing the friendly Knight's slumping shoulders. "Please do not misunderstand…" He explained as he turned his back to the Knight and slowly marched away. "The mission I spoke of is as contrary to yours as Night is to Day. If you follow me you will likely never see your goal achieved or more likely…not live to see it. I do not wish to be the downfall of anyone who has their own dreams and priorities to consider, so I must walk the path alone."

"Well, yes, quite understandable." Solaire conceded, albeit glumly. "Not to worry. I do not wish to impose. I was in the wrong." The Undead starred back sadly to which Solaire chuckled and gave him a good natured salute in farewell. "We'll laugh it off, shall we?"

"Farewell." The Undead returned the salute and continued his guilt leaden march to the bridge gate, no longer caring whatever trap or ambush awaited him once he crossed that threshold.

The moment his foot touched the brick past the massive gateway, the first thing that happened were the nearest Hollows jumping to attention at his approach, raising their shields and swords in ready stances to meet the Undead who drew his weapons in challenge as he continued to march forward. The next thing that happened was an intermingling of two different sets of sounds. One was the unmistakable racket of mighty wings flapping overhead and a terrible shrieking roar, just as he heard before; the second noise was not all new to him as he had met or seen enough knights to recognize their grinding, clanking footsteps, no what startled him was the fact that the iron cacophony was coming from directly behind him.

Before the Undead Swordsman knew what was happening he was wrenched backwards by the back of his coat by strong arms. Then, a tall shadow stepped in front of him obscuring his vision on the bridge by stabbing a large, round disk-like object into the crack of the brick and hiding behind it while gesturing for him to remain low. Suddenly, a sound like monstrous explosion followed by a deadly spike in heat washed over the Undead and his savior as the entire bridge was washed in flames. The souls held by the unfortunate Hollows came to greet their new masters instantly as their old hosts were vaporized in the tidal wave of hell fire, but that was not something the pair were concerned with as the licking flames crashed against the armored Undead's shield, crashing against it like a mad foe and causing even the stoic Undead to curse and grunt with effort as he forced his round barrier to hold.

"Solaire?! What are you doing!?" The Undead was snapped from his stupor once he realized the situation they were in. "This isn't something you can ward off with just an iron shield!"

"Be silent!" The Sunlight Adherent hissed back as he pushed against the struggling defenses with both his shoulder and free hand, even as they burned to the touch against the super heated metal. "You'll spoil my concentration."

Even though it seemed like the fire would rage against them eternally, soon enough, the Knight's effort was rewarded with a reprieve as the crashing wave of heat died down and the two were able to peer over the melted iron shield to see their attacker.

It stood on two hind legs with a low positioned body that left it at more than twice the height of the either men, not counting its far reaching neck or preposterous wing-span. Its body was covered head to long spike tipped tail in blood red scales with thorn like spines protruding from each of them. Its wings were leathery and bat like replacements for its forelegs. Its head was also covered in spikes and ended out as a hooked beak from which wisps of smoke and fire billowed and crooked, sword like fangs protruded. The massive beast was currently glaring down at the two from its position atop the far battlement, practically daring them to continue forward another step.

"It appears this creature reigns over this area." Solaire stated as he starred mournfully at his ruined shield, its top edge had all but melted away, its metallic gleam was replaced by a blackened ruin and his personally depicted sun symbol had all but disintegrated long ago. "Toppling this tyrant will not be easy, and I fear I have not the strength or ability to guard against such an attack twice."

"Why did you help me?" The Undead Swordsman demanded to know as he drew both his blades while trying to take a more forward position against the beast though the Sunlight adherent refused to budge. "I have already declined your offer for alliance. You and I have no reason nor method of helping one another achieve our goals."

Solaire merely chuckled as he tossed his ruined shield on to his back then drew his straight sword and an odd white cloth bundle tinged with red and gold. "I am quite confident in my strength of arms, as I am sure you are in yours. An extra body and sword can always make even the most perilous of journeys all the more manageable. And as for the reason…" Solaire tapped the sun symbol on his chest, proof of his vow and his honor. "I am a Warrior of Sunlight, an ally to all valorous souls in their darkest hours and a guide who illuminates the path for those in need." He proclaimed proudly as he held his sword out in front of him and ran his now glowing talisman over the length of the blade, prompting wild sparks of lightning to flare across it. "You alluded your path may take you deep into the dark, friend. If that is so, I cannot on my conscious allow you to brave it alone. Let me be the judge of whether or not your quest is to be my "downfall"."

The Undead swordsman stood silent before the radiant warrior who had called him friend without knowing him. Who had rescued him though owing him nothing. Who refused to abandon him despite the risk to himself and his dream. The swordsman raised his fiery eyes to the task at hand and knew the flame spitting tyrant was beginning to grow impatient. He could practically see the fire building in the back of its throat, and knew it was preparing to attack again.

This by far trumped every other obstacle he had faced since coming to Lordran. The Beast was more massive and more powerful than any single demon and would likely not fall to the same ploys he had used before against such massive monsters. The only blind spot he could ascertain was the beast underbelly and legs, where the fire and jaws couldn't reach, though the monster's bulk and claws will still be major threats. This would take a devastating offensive that left little room for error as he attacked and weaved all at once. And with just two curved swords he had no way of doing so.

But now, he was not alone.

"Ready yourself, Champion of the Sun. The beast grows restless and we have to quench its fire before it even comes."

"Hah hah hah. Leave that to me." Solaire assured him as he began to pray under his breath, causing his talisman to glow once more. The Beast had decided then to finally hop down from its perch as its scaly blood colored bulk smashed down onto the bridge that was just wide enough to support its size. It hissed at the pair menacingly as smoke billowed rapidly from its snarling maw. It suddenly gave a ferocious bellow as it reared its fire spitting head back, just as Solaire finished his incantation.

"Another thing, friend? You never gave me your name." The Knight raised his cloth gripping hand skyward as a shaft of bright golden lightning formed within his tight grip. The Knight quickly loosed the newly formed javelin with the strength and accuracy of a true master, critically wounding and stunning the Drake as the bolt collided with its raised face, allowing it to only release a weak and promptly dispersed puff of fire that the two easily side stepped as they readied their blades.

"If we live through this…I'll tell you and I might even take you up on that offer this time."

The Knight chuckled satisfied as the two dashed forward at once, twin scimitars and iron blade catching the rays of sunlight raining down upon them and casting the bridge alight. Solaire could not help but bellow out a premature cry of glorious victory as he and his new companion sliced clean through the flank and tail of the no longer imposing seeming monster, sending blood and severed appendage flying into the air.

"PRAISE THE SUN!"

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 **So what did you guys think of our second look at our mysterious Chosen Undead. Believe it or not he does have a place in this story and we will be cutting back to him every once in a while either by actual plot relevant flashbacks or nifty little cuts like these. So what is this mysterious figures name, what is his shadowy goal. You'll have to stay tuned and find out.**

 **Till next time folks.**

 **I do not own Dark Souls.**


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 **(That's right, I'm done with the asinine fancy names.)**

"Greetings, Quelana: Mother of Pyromancy, Daughter of Quel: Witch of Ilazith. The Dark Sun, Gwyndolin, welcomes thou to her Kingdom." The youthful figure before Quelana was not what Quelana imagined yet somehow also just as intimidating. Though she was just shorter than Quelana herself her proud stance and regal tone showed how she demanded respect from those around her, which was reflected by the three warriors serving her and how wary and tense all of them had become. To Quelana she seemed like an untouchable being, a contrast to her and her sisters in every way. Pure white skin and hair adorned in a dress just as pale but adorned with gold jewlery around the shoulders and collar and a face mask like crown that was designed in reverence to the Sun, her lord and father. Quelana noted the dress went all the way to the ground to cover the Princess's feet, though their seemed to be an odd amount of swishing and movement at the gown's feet, as if something was being covered up and hidden.

Quelana suddenly realized that she needed to return the greeting of her regal host and instantly straightened her back, pulled her feet together parallel, brought her hands together and lowered her head and upper body until she was almost at a right angle, a proper bow just as she had been taught. "I humbly offer my gratitude for this invitation, Lady Gwyndolin." Quelana's feelings on the matter were the exact opposite of that in fact and she would hardly say she was invited, more like kidnapped, but she held her tongue as she caught the hint of approval in the third-born's expression, better to wait for an explanation from her host before she made an enemy of one of the most powerful beings in Lordran.

"An invitation had been my desire in order for us to meet face to face, Lady Quelana. However, it is my understanding that thou had received a most unwelcome and unhospitable escort to my city. Is this not so?" Gwyndolin gestured for Quelana to raise her head to address her inquiry. Quelana noticed the increased tenseness of the golden armored Knight and recalled how the executioner had referred to him as "Champion".

'He must be the one those two work for.' Quelana did not expect her chance to plead the injustice against her would come so soon. She jumped at the chance.

"Please forgive my bluntness, Princess, but it is." Quelana explained. "I was ambushed by the warriors supposedly sent to escort me and was take against my will from my home. I feel I should also mention, this was after they murdered my attendant and attempted to steal a precious memento of my departed sibling."

Gwyndolin listened closely to the Pyromancer's words and slowly her gaze drifted toward the Golden Champion who seemed to be avoiding eye contact, though everyone was now glancing at him either accusingly or in cruel amusement to see him cornered.

"The three of you…" Gwyndolin's youthful voice suddenly resounded once more to draw the attention of the three men whose head's shot up in attention. "Leave us." She commanded simply but authoratively.

Though they all followed the command without question there were visible slumpings in the shoulders of both the Champion and the Executioner, the former likely feared his reprimanding would come later and did not look forward to being summoned for his judgement, the latter had spent the entirety of the short meeting starring at the Izalithian in a manner that disturbed her and was grateful to see him leave. The third seemed to care little for the dismissal as he seemed to have finished his polishing and returned his blade to its lengthy black scabbard he kept at his waste. Quelana stepped aside immediately as the fog door behind her finally opened up again, allowing the armor clad trio to depart out of the chamber before it closed up again.

"Now we may discuss matters more comfortably. Come." Gwyndolin invited as she turned away from the entrance and moved further into the chamber. To the pyromancer, it was odd to watch the Princess move as the way her dress continued to hide her feet and the fact that she made no sounds as she stepped, it was almost as if she were gliding across the floor instead of walking. Quelana hesitated for only a moment before she followed after the pale royal, joining her on a small platform built into the side of the balcony like structure that Smough had jumped down from. There was little up here as it was simply a walkway leading towards yet another, highly important, chamber. Quelana did however pause near an out of place Bonfire, an odd sight considering the longevity and near invulnerability of the gods made such necessities pointless to use.

The Dark Sun, having noticed her curiosity, elucidated the oddity for her. "This chamber was once the Proving Grounds for potential Undead Chosen, and this Bonfire was to be their point of recuperation and recovery before they presented thineselves to the Princess."

"I had heard that Undead were attempting to make their way to Anor Londo, but I had no idea the gods were actually expecting them."

"Yes…we were quite desperate at the time. A fact that likely led to our current predicament." The Pyromancer waited and watched the pausing Princess in confusion.

'Desperate?' She thought, wondering what could cause such distress to one who ruled over an entire Kingdom of mighty Demi-gods. 'What has happened in the world while I have been sheltered away in the swamp?'

"There is much we have to speak of, things best spoken in private." Gwyndolin explained as she continued to "glide" toward the massive closed doors ahead.

"Princess Gwyndolin? Though I had wished to remain silent about it I feel I must ask for explanation after all." Gwyndolin paused just before the door and turned to her, expression revealing nothing only allowing her to speak her mind if she felt she must. "Why was I brought here? I can excuse the methods by which I came here fore I understand it was not my lady's desire, but I must know why? You referred to me as a Princess but I am hardly anything close to that anymore, I am just a humble hermit now, an exile with nothing. Why did you call upon me and wish to speak to me?"

Gwyndolin stood patient as she finished her distressed demand for answers. The pale royal placed a hand to the crown covering the upper half of her face as she contemplated how to address this moment. "As I said previously, what I wish to speak of is best said in private, in this chamber." Gwyndolin pressed as she placed a hand to the massive double door, prompting it to slowly open inward by some magic force. "But as to why it had to be thou…it was because I felt we were similar, you and I."

"Similar?" Quelana wondered if she had heard right. How could she compare to one such as the Dark Sun?

"Though mine Kingdom still stands, it too is on the decline and any chance of it recovering is looking dimmer and dimmer as the years go by. I have lost much, allies, loyal retainers, even cherished family. You know what that is like do you not?" Gwyndolin looked to the pyromancer, and though she could not see it Quelana felt sorrow coming from the Lord's expression.

"I do. Until very recently I could only watch in sorrow in fear at what my poor Siblings and Mother had become. But now they are gone and I am left with my regret over being too weak and too cowardly to help them or die with them."

"That, is why I sought you out. Thou know as I do what it's like to lose someone irreplaceable and yearn for them so that you would watch over their memory with thy entire being." The doors finally opened wide, allowing the two ladies to enter into a wide chamber where a glorious figure awaited them with a smile. "I have guarded over a great secret for many years Quelana. And it is that secret I wish to share with you now."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Aye, siwmae! And good day to you! You must be the new friend Laurentius spoke of."

"Umm…yes. Hello, it is nice to meet you. My name is Oscar." The young Knight responded in awkward greeting, his growing fatigue of carrying the stack of Baldur shields temporarily forgotten as he marveled over the odd figure that greeted him at their destination.

"Well met! I am Domhnall of Zena." The Undead bowed in greeting from his cross legged seat beside the indoor Bonfire, causing the many medals stitched to his forest green armor to jingle in a not so unpleasant cacophony of metal striking metal. Covering his face the man wore an audacious gold helm with goggles covering the eyes and goat horns attached to the crown. Honestly the part of the Undead's garment that was the least strange were the leather gloves and boots the man wore, and even they likely must have held some oddity the Knight could yet perceive.

"Don't linger on the stairs Oscar! We still have people coming and they'd like to relieve themselves of their loads quickly." Rickert groaned tiredly, his twin loads weighing him down to the point that he was starting to hunch over. The Astoran quickly apologized and stepped aside, allowing the mage smith past him.

"Ah, master Rickert! Good to see you well and that your errand was profitable." The Zenan chuckled joyously at the sound jingling metals as Rickert exhaustedly dropped his burden and sat back on his haunches to catch his breath. Oscar couldn't really blame him after the trek they had made to get here burdened as they were.

After making their way from the bridge, the Undead passed through what Oscar observed as a semi-defensible block where likely troops would meet invaders before a mechanically raised gate that could be dropped at the first sign of trouble; if they were able to get across the bridge into the battlement that is. Luckily for them the gate was still up so they were able to make their way into the parish courtyard unobstructed, though Oscar did note a side route that seemed to lead downward but Rickert waved him away from there, muttering "too much trouble". After that, they made their way through a lonely husk of a cathedral, walking past the empty and knocked over pews and avoiding stepping on the holy items and parchments strewn across the floor. Oscar stopped for just a moment to stare upon the single untouched part of the abandoned holy ground at that was the altar that stood vigil at the buildings very back, as if welcoming all who entered. The Knight quickly caught up to his impatient companion as they exited the cathedral from a side entrance that led outside into a sort of observation deck like area where one could marvel at the greenery surrounding the parish and allowed one to walk further out into it via a thin stone bridge that lead to a crumbling "second" or perhaps "obsolete" altar. Whatever the case it seemed to be their destination as Rickert seemed to relax a bit once they entered, descended a sloping flight of stairs and greeted their peculiar companion who stood watch beside a crackling bonfire.

"I have my old tools again, at last." Rickert grinned ecstatically as he fished through one of the bags and pulled out what appeared to be a leather gripped, iron smithing hammer with a head small enough to fit in Rickert's hand and inscribed with odd runes along its shaft. "Not to mention enough Titanite to keep me and Old Ashy Beard supplied for some time."

"Aye that's good to hear!" A hearty guffaw resounded from the upper floors as the remaining Undead descended the stairs to join them around the fire, dropping their hard won loot as they relaxed. "And did I also just hear you refer to me as "Ashy Beard? Scrawny Smith?" The older gentleman wrapped the Vinheim mage in a playful headlock, prompting the younger man to complain profusely while his companions laughed along at the antics while Oscar, feeling like the outsider, watched on silently and assumed this to be normal for the group. The only other one who didn't join in the laughter was the Cleric who Oscar spotted heading toward the next flight of descending stairs, focused on something else it seemed.

"Ah! That way is-!" Domhnall also noticed the departing Cleric and quickly called out to him. Too late it seemed as once the silent priest took one step down did a bolt of blue soul force sail past his head and strike the wall above him, scorching and blowing a whole in the stone and forcing the Cleric to step back.

"That was a warning shot, Cleric!" Beatrice's irritated call could be heard from the lower floor and quickly snapped the men from their revelry as they all shifted fearfully away from the source of the witch's ire, Nico, who let out a low whistle as he checked to make sure his head was still there.

"Apologies Brother Nico, I should have warned you sooner. The two ladies arrived ahead of you all and are currently changing and have demanded privacy." Domhnall explained sheepishly.

"Well…" The Astoran Royal coughed uncomfortably as a signal to change the subject. "Excellent work holding down the fort for us Domhnall. I assume you and the lady Keeper had no trouble after we left."

"None at all, Prince Ricard. The place has been as quiet as a mouse."

"Brilliant! Then I suppose some introductions are in order now that we're all together..." The armored prince then heard the unmistakable racket of steel clanking against stone as his countryman fell to a knee before him. "And it seems we've reached our first headache."

"Sire! I apologize for not recognizing you immediately, your Highness, Prince Ricard, Hero of Falk Vale, Champion of Elston, Leader of the Companions of the Blade! " Oscar had all but completely prostrated himself before the regal Undead as he recited his many titles, removing his helmet and sword as he bowed his head to the noble who looked down at him slightly uncomfortably. There were murmurs going around the room as the other men watched the encounter with interest.

"I am begging you Oscar, please stand up before-"

"Hah hah hah!" Another hearty round of laughter suddenly shot up around the room as the gathered Undead guffawed and snickered in amusement for reasons the younger Astoran did not understand, though judging by the fact that the prince was pinching the bridge of his nose tired it seemed to be mainly at his expense.

"…That happens." Ricard let out an exasperated sigh as he helped Oscar to his feet. "Yes! Yes! Get it out of your systems, you louts."

"I…don't follow what is happening here." Oscar admitted looking around the room in confusion and a tiny bit of irritation at the lack of decorum before royalty.

"You have to understand Oscar." Rickert attempted to explain through his laughter and gasps for breath. "You are the first person to actually react to meeting him in such a way."

"Aye! The first few weeks we'd known him, the poor sod had so many airs on we could barely stand bein' around 'im half the time." Andre added, guffawing heartily as he slapped his knee in merriment. "Swear he was fishing for just such a reaction as what you gave him every time he we found someone else sane out here. Anyone remember how it went?"

"Greetings and salutations, my fine fellows!" Ricard gave another audible moan as Beatrice; having replaced her torn skirt with a pair of black leather traveling trousers and boots that mixed well with her already dark ensemble and, as a bonus, accentuated her feminine figure, waltzed up the stairwell, flourishing her arms and staff in a manner as to seem theatrically regal. "I am Ricard, formerly Crown Prince of Astora, Champion of Elston, Hero of Falk Vale, Leader of the Companions of the Blade and now Undead adventurer extraordinaire. Charmed I am sure." The sorceress finished her impersonation with a theatrical bow and tipping of her hat as the gathered men applauded her performance, even Ricard managed a light clap and a bashful grin. "And now his introduction for everything he meets with hips and an ample bosom!" The Prince instantly halted mid clap as his eyes widened in shock and his face paled noticeably. "Lovely assistants!"

"Present!" A petite young woman with light brown hair tied into a bun rushed up the stairs at Beatrice's call, dragging with her a woman closer to Beatrice's age wearing a slightly dingy assortment of robes and appeared to be slightly distressed about being pulled into the center of attention, though she stayed oddly silent about it. It took Oscar a second to realize; as she had changed out of her heavy set armor into a wool tunic, trousers and leather boots, but by her voice he soon recognized the younger girl to be Sieglinde, further stunning him how such a young, delicate seeming girl was able to wear probably the most cumbersome armor he'd ever seen.

"Hark, gentle maidens!" Beatrice called out, taking a knee before the pair, holding her hat to her heart and reaching out her hand in a theatrical pose of entreaty. "I beg of thee, present this unworthy one with thy names so that I may take my trusty blade and carve them into my heart as testament to our fated meeting!" The witch's captive audience snickered silently to themselves at the charming performance; Andre even through in a whooping whistle to cheer the trio of ladies on, with the exception of Oscar who continued to watch silently, unsure of how to take in the impersonation, and Ricard who silently fumed inside his helm which he hid his face in to deny them the pleasure of watching him squirm.

"Oh my! Sir Knight, how very forward." Sieglinde stated in pseudo-propriety and placed a hand to her mouth in a feigned gesture of shock which her silent companion mimicked while appearing disturbingly nonplussed and normal about the whole charade. "To say such things in our first meeting, you leave me at a loss for words." Again, the robed woman stayed silent and only nodded as her addition to the act.

"Nay! Speak more purest one! To rob me of thy musical voice-."

"Alright you've had your fun!" Ricard finally spoke out, marching out into the middle of the room and bowing to Oscar just as Beatrice had done earlier. "As it seems my introduction is well managed, I shall take my leave and attend to my post. Please make yourself at home Oscar and if you still bare any respect for me heed my advice, pray they learn nothing to mock of you. Good day to you all!" With that, the legendary prince, now made buffoon, departed from the group of Undead through a side exit adjacent to the Bonfire and led to what appeared to be a foreboding fortress connected to the decrepit holy site by a stone walkway.

"It seems your play has gone a step too far." The crimson robed elder stated from behind his ivory mask, prompting the black garbed woman to shrug dismissively. "Sieglinde, do go see if you can cheer him up. It wouldn't do for our esteemed leader to sulk all his lonesome."

"Yes, Wise One." Sieglinde nodded in understanding as she grabbed something from the stairwell she had lain there and swiftly followed after the stomping royal.

"Smart lass." Andre grinned approvingly. "Getting him to train her usually does wonders for his mood." The item Sieglinde had grabbed looked to be a normal short sword less than the length of her arm and certainly far smaller than her previous weapon. The girl quickly crossed the stone bridge and caught up to the sulking Ricard. The man's mood indeed shifted quickly as his shoulders relaxed visibly and he patted the young swordswoman's head brotherly as he lead her into the fortress, likely to a place they used for training.

"It seems that issue has been resolved easily enough." Beatrice proclaimed simply as she made her way back up the stairs to the Parish above. "If you need me I will be preoccupying myself with a little pest extermination." With that, the witch disappeared from sight, humming expectantly to herself as her heels clicked against the ground.

"Pest?" Oscar inquired as he wondered what the strange woman spoke of. "Do you have a rodent infestation?"

"A few Giant Rats do sometimes wander out of the sewers below…" Domhnall replied. "But that's not what she likes to spend her time killing." Oscar gave the man a puzzled look, partly on the subject of "Giant Rats".

"We have a few packs of weaker Hollows still remaining in the Cathedral and that barracks you likely passed before coming here." Laurentius explained, prompting Oscar to recall the path way Rickert had turned him away from earlier. "Those Hollows mainly keep to their own little corners of the Parish and never leave. They're also incredibly under-equipped and highly deprived of Souls so we have no reason to hunt them down to loot them like we did the ones on the bridge. And one of the only two people in our group who use them as practice dummies just left." The pyromancer gestured to the way Beatrice had gone.

"I see…wait? What do you mean _Souls?"_

"Hoo boy!" Andre sighed as he grabbed a startled Oscar in a headlock as he had done with Rickert before. "We really 'ave a clueless one on our hands 'ere lads. Looks like there's a lot we need to catch you up on."

"Uh…yes. Please do." Oscar agreed, realizing that he had best learn everything he needed to about this land before he became a burden to his new companions.

"Good lad! By the way I noticed you're a bit under-equipped yourself, for a Knight. Where's the shield that goes with that fine blade of yours?"

"I do not know. It wasn't with me when I awoke."

"Bah, can't have that!" Andre sputtered as he led the still locked Oscar down the stairs to the lowest section of their odd hideaway. "I'd be a laughin' stock of a smith if I let a fine Knight like yourself walk these treacherous lands without the essentials. I'm Andre by the way."

Oscar had to cough through his reply as the man's massive arms remained wrapped around his neck. "M-my thanks."

"Rickert! Start moving your gear and the Titanite down here and we'll get to work right away. Laurentius, give him a hand!"

"Got it!"

"Not a problem."

"Nico! Quit making googly eyes at the Keeper and make yourself useful! Somebody needs to move all that equipment down here!"

"Rnngh!" The cleric groaned indignantly while the silent woman hid her blushing face in her hands as she sat down beside her Bonfire. Domhnall and Ingward simply made themselves comfortable by the fire as they chatted amongst themselves.

"Oi, Nico." Rickert called to the cleric who was mulling over how he was going to bring down all their spoils by himself. "When I didn't see them at the bridge I thought the rest of our group was still here guarding with Domhnall, but I don't see them anywhere. Where are your companions and the other two?"

"Eh." Nico replied, pointing his thumb over his shoulder to the exit. A signal meant to imply: "They left".

"The lady of Thorolund and Brother Vince apparently had business of grave importance in a place called the Catacombs just past Firelink. They left brother Nico here so as to not deprive us of their Clerical abilities, should we be in need of them." Domhnall answered for the mumbling monk.

"They were apparently right on our heels when we left for the Asylum." Laurentius added as he carried the bag of ore on his shoulder to take down. "We must have just missed one another."

"They went down to that gods forsaken hole!" Rickert cried in shock. "They'd be mad just to test the graveyard with all those blasted skeletons milling about." The mage smith knew he was right to fear for his friends' safety as more often than not a few reanimated skeletons proved to be more formidable than even a larger pack of the fleshy Hollows. And they were practically heading straight into a nest of the things.

"No need to worry Rickert." Laurentius assured him confidently. "They once said they'd brave the place before in search of some firewood, I think, and this time they have the trust worthy Master Patches as their guide."

Rickert snorted, not as sure as his friend as he trusted the wily thief about as much as he feared the fossilized dregs.

"At least they have a knight down there they can depend on." Rickert muttered to himself, noting another of their band was missing.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 _ **Kraka-thoom!**_

An explosion of concussive sound rattled the throughout the deep canyon, sending uprooted stone and splintering bone flying outward in all directions, and knocking several chattering cadavers onto their backs while leaving those in the eye of the explosion untouched.

"Are you trying to bring the entire tomb down upon us, idiot?!" A surly appearing, shaved headed man reprimanded his younger companion who, having quickly recited the canticle of **Force,** was currently grinning ear to ear at the sight of the reanimated dregs being seemingly subdued for the time being.

"At least now we have breathing room instead of these wretches dogging us all the time." The blond haired armored youth argued back, turning on his black leather clad ally with a surly expression of his own. "Sides, you're the one that said this was the safest route down! What else can I do but protect myself and M'lady when you clearly have your directions wrong!"

"This is the safest route you ninny!" The bald man shook his fist frustratedly and then gestured pointedly to the inner area of the cavern. "If you all had followed my advice we would have gotten down this death hole without having to worry about these skull-heads at all. But now that "Cast-Iron" whats-his-name has run off and likely woken up every corpse on his way and you're little indiscretion has probably alerted the worst of these blighters where we are!"

"Gentlemen, if we could set this aside perhaps?" The third of three who had been silent during the exchange; and wore an ensemble of pure white clerical robes with a hood that covered her tied back hair, was the first to notice the reanimated skeletons recovering from her bodyguard's attack and would soon be back on their feet with their wicked blades in hand once more and even more of their ilk heading their way. The two men acquiesced, muttering profanities of the other as they readied themselves for battle.

"Stupid cleric." The bald guide said as he hid behind his eagle imprinted great shield and held his spear at the ready.

"Worthless thief." The younger man muttered back as he put away his brown canvas cloth talisman and readied his mace and kite shield respectively. "M'lady, stay behind me. I'll not them lay a pale finger on you."

"No Vince!" The robed maiden refused as she stood beside her bodyguard, brandishing a small round shield of reinforced metal and leather on one arm and holding a peculiar staff in her white gloved grip. "Things will not go like they did before. I will not have you die for me again."

"M'lady…are you certain?" Vince asked worriedly. True, when she expressed her desire to try the Catacombs again she also shocked he and Nico when she asked various members of their associates back in the Parish on how she could defend herself with her own two hands if need be, even going as far asking the Blacksmith to craft her weapons light enough for her to wield. Sieglinde, Ricard and Domhnall were happy to share what they could of shield and sword based combat, and Ingward opted to show her a few forms on how to defend with her staff. Even Beatrice, in her mischief, gave the young lady a few pointers on a "Woman's Martial Art" meant for taking down bigger and brawnier opponents. Despite all this, Vince and his partner Nico still held their doubts on letting their old School mate put her life at risk when it was their duty to make sure she stayed out of harm's way.

"Let the girl fight." Their companion said sternly. "If she can't fend for herself then she'll have no way of surviving and finding that other oaf if the two of us bite it here." As ever, the discourteous Thief Patches wasn't holding back his sharp tongue. He, was another reason for the Clerics' worry as they had not forgotten how he had had a hand in their previous demise. How he had found a place among the Undead of the Parish was beyond Vince's understanding. When he volunteered to be their guide through the Catacombs and into the Tomb of Giants, a pitch black abyss with footing as treacherous as the fiends that haunt it as well as the same place his silver tongued treachery felled them, Vince practically begged their groups strongest Knight to accompany them if only to keep an eye on Patches and possibly to muscle through any devious trick he attempted to drop them into, again.

But now that fool hardy Berenike has run off and they were surrounded. And without Nico to guard his flank, he knew he could not argue with the situation so bleak.

"Then, Rhea, stay right beside me."

"Understood, here they come!" The Skeletons had now fully recovered and joined by their allies who had joined them in flanking the trio on the narrow cliff outcropping they had been walking on. Patches held the front alone with his great shield and Rhea and Vince stood side by side as they guarded the back.

"C'mon! Over here, lovelies!" Patches taunted the ghouls as he tapped his spear against the front of his shield in show. "You remember me, don't you. Picked you all real clean, I did." Though he had no knowing if the skeletons actually knew him or if his taunt even worked, but by some will the dregs charged, and even rolled forward towards him, their wickedly curved blades gleaming for a kill. The clever thief would hear none of it as he pressed in with his shield, stopping the first of his foes in its tracks, smashing against his tall barrier before it could even bring its sword down. Patches didn't waste time with his spear as he knew it would do little against the non fleshy fiends. So he opted instead to fling his arm to the side and caught the cadaver between him and the cliff wall before smashing all his weight behind his shield and crushing the monster against the stone where it fell to bits at his feet. "That's one!" Patches snickered, as he reset his position to do the same to the unlearning dregs that followed after.

Where the two clerics lacked the scavengers defense and tactics, the weapons they possessed more than made up for the difference as their blunt damaging weapons easily caved in the skulls and frames of the animated horde that beset them.

Though her actual combat experience was limited, Rhea gave thanks to the lessons instilled in her by her far off companions as she immediately fell into her familiar rhythm, swiping and twirling the metallic staff to and fro, following up each strike with the head of her weapon with yet another strike by bring up or around the opposite end. This intricate offensive, coupled with the fact that the young woman's weapon was at least as tall as her blond haired companion, complicated the dregs' chances of reaching her or her bodyguard. And even if they should get close…

 _ **Crack!**_

"Ugly blighters." Vince hissed as he caved in another of the more agile skeletons, his heavy mace completing decimating the cadaver with a single over head smash. Yet another dreg had managed to slip in with its companion and went for a quick stroke against the recovering cleric. But a swift inside swing from Rhea caught the thing across the back, causing it to fall face first right at Vince's feet as he grinned and smashed his mace downward once more, shattering the defenseless skeletal warriors head to pale shards. "Too eas-yipe!" Vince had to quickly bring his shield up as another warrior had suddenly slipped in despite Rhea's assault…no. "Hang on…I just caved your chest in a moment ago!" Vince realized as he instantly recognized his own handiwork. He swiftly smacked the dreg down again but this time kept his shield up, for a good reason too as the headless skeleton he thought he killed was also getting back up, blindly fumbling for its sword as its skull-less body stood back up. "Don't tell me…" Vince groaned.

"The Nercromancers!" Rhea gasped as she desperately tried to push the cadavers back by thrusting them away with her staff.

"I thought those blasphemous ghouls had been wiped out the last time we were here!" Vince growled as he smashed bone to bits left and right, attempting to break them to the point where they had no means of standing back up. But even that was to no avail as the creatures apparently weren't picky about staying whole as long as they could fight and were able to reassemble using spare or forgotten pieces of the other corpses around them or those of their allies. Even the headless dreg had acquired a new skull as it seemed to grin maliciously before charging back in only to be smashed once more.

"Either one of those corpse lovers escaped whomever wiped out him and his friends or more of them moved in." Patches called over shoulder to the two as he was also having trouble keeping his own foes to stay down and began trying to sweep them off the ledge with his foot, which seemed like a good idea until one of the creatures' arms grabbed his boot and tried to climb up his pant leg. "Either way…did either of you two happen to bring one of your "holy" weapons with you?" It was common knowledge to most who dealt in clerical, or for some anti-clerical, affairs that one of the best ways to deal with possessed or reanimated corpses was to exorcise it with a blessed weapon. Judging by the slumping of the young maiden's shoulders and the uncharacteristic cursing by the younger man, gave Patches the distinct impression that they did not carry such a tool.

"Nico's axe was blessed…I think." Vince muttered dejectedly, missing his friend even more now.

"Another reason I wish we brought the quiet one instead." Patches sighed as he pushed back another warrior with the face of his shield. "We'll just have to hope that oversized fool didn't leave us for dead and comes back quick."

"From what I've heard of the man…" Vince began before he had to knock aside a heavy handed slash with his shield, knocking the offending cadaver to the ground and allowing Rhea to finish it off with a swift downward stab of her staff into the things chest, severing its spine; if only temporarily. "...he's not one to shirk away from a challenge. Though diving head long into them is what he's known for."

"Then mayhaps the good knight has not abandoned us yet." Rhea suggested hopefully.

"Whatever he's like he's not here when we need him most!" Patches cursed as the pressure from his side was beginning to mount, pushing him back across the bridge to his younger companions. At the rate they were going they would either be forced off the ridge due to lack of space, likely to meet a messy landing at the bottom of the chasm, or…they would completely overrun and eviscerated by skeletal horde. The former scavenger dared a worried look to his preoccupied allies, wondering if chancing the drop would be best for the lot of them.

He then noticed their swarm of opponents was particularly smaller then his own and cursed his luck under his breath for having drawn the smaller lot of luck. But as he looked again in resentment he noticed the peculiar amount of forgotten bones gathering at the clerics' feet that seemed to be gradually increasing every time he looked back. There were definitely reanimated skeletons on their side recovering from Vince's heavy handed blows, but not all of them. Why was that?

The black garbed Undead got his answer in a sudden, almost unnoticeable gleam of white light, like a tiny flame, going off upon contact by the Thorolund lass's weapon and their magically operated opponents. Patches looked stunned for only a moment before growling irritably. "I thought you said you didn't have any blessed weapons on you!?" The two clerics jumped at his sharp tone and looked to each other in confusion.

"I don't. " Vince called back dumbfounded by the scavenger's remark. "I told you it was Nico who had the-."

"Not you ninny! The girl! Her weapon can put these blighters down permanently!" The older Undead had to growl and snarl through his reply as he was still being pressed back by the hoard behind his shield. "Now stop lolligagging and get to bashing heads! Chop chop!"

"My…weapon?" Rhea looked unbelieving at the metal staff in her hands, totally unaware of the power it held. Her thoughts swiftly drifted back to when the kind smith Andre presented her the weapon.

"' _Ere you are, love. Fresh from the anvil and "speceefied" for your hands. She don't seem like much but I'd say she's one of my finest works."_

At the time, Rhea had only thanked the good smith for his generosity and swiftness considering her desire of a weapon of her own was on such short notice and that she had only recently received anything close to combat training. Andre laughed off her heartfelt gratitude with a giddy grin as he patted her on the head, much to hers, Vince's and Nico's chagrin.

" _This ain't the first time I've armed someone to face that dark tomb and I don't expect it to be the last. Just thank Gywn I'm better equipped for it now than I was some time ago. Aye, if you've got anyone to thank, thank the one who brought me such a fine ember!"_

At the time his vague words only confused her but now she realized Andre had thought ahead for her and made sure she had the means do defend herself and her companions. She owed the kind man much and wouldn't let his work go to waste. A skeleton had swiftly moved in while Vince was preoccupied with another of its comrades. This one wielded a larger and far more wickedly sharp blade, likely meant more for chopping off limbs and heads than cutting into them. It came at the frail maiden with an overhead blow that would likely have split her head in two, had she not swiftly parried the blow to the side with a quick flurry of her staff, catching the side of the weapon on the head of her staff and pushing it to the ground.

'And…riposte!' She thought, remembering well the fairly advanced lessons taught by the Astoran Prince as she ran her staff straight through the off guard fiend's rib cage. The holy properties of the staff flared up once more as the cadaver seemed to writhe in agony for only a moment before collapsing back into a pile of bones, leaving only its rib caged still wrapped around the metallic pole. Rhea noticed Vince was still having trouble with his foes and quickly flung her weapon out to the side, flinging the cage of cartilage sailing from her staff and smashing into the skull of the offending skeleton attacking Vince, knocking it back and giving him time to smash its feet out from under it. Rhea wasted no time in moving in on this fiend too as she smashed her staff head down into its skull, shattering and cleansing the body of its magic.

"This can work." Vince grinned giddily as the two clerics took a more confident step toward the oncoming fiends. With hammer and faith in hand, the two young schoolmates charged forth to expunge the evil from these bones.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"The Queen of Sunlight!" Quelana gasped in awe before she quickly remembered herself and reverently bowed before the radiant auburn haired giantess adorned in silk linens that just barely covered her attractive form.

"Raise thy head, young one. Let me see thy face." The silky smooth voice of Gywn's eldest daughter beckoned the Izalithian to straighten up, her face attempting to show courteous patience while failing to hide the awe in her eyes. She could not tell if it was due to the goddess's placement before a grand window overlooking the sunlit city of if her towering form gave off light like the sun itself, either way Quelana feared her gaze would falter against such overpowering splendor as she continued to meet the warm eyes of Gwynevere. "Thou have journeyed far to come here and have suffered much."

"I…have yet to regret making this journey…your highness." The words seemed to fall off her tongue like fruit from a tree, so enwrapped was Quelana by the splendor before her that her mind seemed a blank and her thoughts were distant, relying only on her instinct to communicate her feelings for her.

"We are pleased that you are pleased." The goddess smiled as she extended her sizable hand toward the witch in gesture of invitation. "Come to me, child. Let your woes melt away and bask in mine protection, and the protection of Anor Londo."

"Am I…to become one of your handmaidens…Queen Gywnevere?" Again, the words escaped her lips without her even needed to think about them.

"If it is thy wish." Gywnevere held her unchanging smile, her hand still offered. "Enter my service and you will no longer know pain or sadness. Nor hunger nor cold…nor loss. It is why you journeyed here, no? You wished to free yourself of your pain."

"Yes…" Quelana took a slow, mesmerized step forward. And in that step, though she paid it no mind, the black Izalithian robes she long cherished turned to wisps of smoke in the overwhelming sunlight, leaving her totally exposed as she took another hypnotized step toward her Queen. She oddly felt neither cold nor embarrassed in her threadbare state and as she took yet another step. Golden fire suddenly caught across her figure, fire that did not burn but filled her with warm welcoming sense. And as the fire faded the would-be handmaiden emerged unharmed and dressed once more, this time however in the glorious white and gold of Anor Londo. Adorned as she was in such fine robes of holy worship and with her visage practically renewed by the resplendent flames, though she could not look upon herself, Quelana felt that she had attained a beauty dwarfed only by her Queen's and truly happy now as she took her first steps to her brighter future. She could finally forget it everything.

Everything…her ruined civilization lost to demonic incursion, her family; undone and destroyed by chaos, her friends…Kirk, Eingyi, Salaman and…

" _I can imagine well the pain you feel, Mother of Pyromancy. I too have lost many things I will never be able to get back. But if I may be so body to say…Izalith will never truly be lost so long as you hold it close and remember it for the splendor it once was."_

Quelana suddenly halted mid step as an overwhelming compulsion to raise her arm and take the giantess's hand came to her. "What is wrong, young one? Take my hand. It is why you journeyed here, yes?" Gywnevere's smiling visage changed not once as she invited Quelana forward.

"I…" Quelana suddenly focused on the strange ringing in her ear…no, in her mind. She placed a hand to her head as her mind surged back to her. "No…I was brought here. I was trying to revive my brother…using my dear sister's soul to lull him back to life." The life seemed to dim in the room as the memories rushed back to Quelana like a flood. "I was ambushed…taken. My brother is alive and he has Quelaan's soul. And I also remember…" Now a new feeling rushed back to the pyromancer as an orb of crimson fire formed in her palm. "You monsters murdered Eingyi!"

She could contain herself no longer. Despite all the courtesy and fealty she tried to present, she could not forget the outrage boiling just beneath the surface of her soul. They took yet another irreplaceable person from her and they expected her to just forget? Forget everything she loved just to become their servant? "I am the last Princess of Izalith!" She declared. "And I shall never bow to you!" With a wave of her hand the orb of fire exploded outward as a fast moving projectile that resembled a blazing sun.

The colossal Gywnevere made no moves as the rocketing missile of outrage hurled straight toward her, she only continued to smile with her hand out in invitation as if frozen in that pose. The orb was now only inches from crashing straight into the goddess, immolating her fair form in explosive fire.

Suddenly, the space between the goddess and the offending spell began to shimmer like a curtain of water, allowing the til now absent Gywndolin to appear in the orbs path with a regal scepter tipped in gold in her hands. With a wave of her catalyst, the Dark Sun produced a massive sphere of soul force all her own, sending it forth to counter the oncoming pyromancy spell. The two orbs clashed in mid air, exploding against each other and released a shock wave so violent that the room itself began to shake. The stain glass lining the walls quivered and clinked, threatening to shatter. The force was so great the Quelana was suddenly and violently knocked off her feet, and as the pain from her tumble struck so too did the last traces of the pull on her mind fade. Quelana was once more in her black robes, her fanciful transformation into one of Anor Londo's vain and devoted maidens only an illusion existing in her nearly dominated mind alone. The room had quickly stopped shaking and the light returned to a more welcoming and warm extreme compared to the overpowering and hypnotic blaze it was before.

As Quelana was picking herself up while nursing her recovering mind she was caught totally off guard to find the Dark Sun standing dominantly over her, scepter at her side but poised to smite her down in an instant.

"You may as well kill me now." Quelana hissed as she readied another inferno in her open palm. "I have not fallen so low as to become a slave to you and your designs. I will remind you as to whose daughter I am when I've turned this room into a furnace!"

"That I cannot allow." Gywndolin stated as she raised her arm to the side, catalyst in hand. Before banishing said instrument in a flash of golden light. "But I do not wish to make an enemy of thou either." Quelana blinked in confusion as Gywndolin offered her pale, slender hand for the pyromancer to take. "Please calm thy self and trust me when I tell you: I had no intention of controlling you. You have far exceeded my expectations, Princess of Izalith."

Quelana extinguished her pyromancy spell but hesitated to take the Dark Sun's hand. She expected another trick or some other ambush lying in wait to detain her for future attempts, but she could see none. Only the two of them and the still oddly frozen Gywnevere were present in the room.

"I…do not understand what is going on at all." Quelana murmured as she reluctantly took the princess's hand.

"There is much I have to explain." Gywndolin returned as she lifted the dark robed woman to her feet with strength that didn't seem to match her frail seeming form. Though she was on her feet once more, Quelana still felt woozy from her ordeal and ensuing outburst and she suddenly pitched forward into the white dressed princess who did not budge as the Izalithian caught herself on the young lord's shoulder to keep from falling again. As she clung to the princess her hands rested upon her shoulder allowing her to get a feel for them and she was confused to find them oddly broad and hard to the touch. She soon realized the compromising position she was in and pulled away, finally finding her feet once more. "Forgive me I…" Gywndoline shook her head dismissively to say no harm was done.

"To begin, I feel I must explain my actions over the past moment." Gwyndoline stated, a very slight hint of guilt in her tone.

"You were the one worming their way into my mind!" Quelana realized, and she went on guard again though her fist only stayed cupped, not lit. "For what reason did you have to try and over power my mind with your illusions, if not to control me?" She demanded to know.

"For the same reason I needed to have thou escorted here to my Kingdom." The princess responded calmly. "I needed to make certain thou were some place under my watch and protection. And then…I needed to make certain of the strength of thy mind."

"Protection from what? Who else but you could assault my mind with their magic?"

"I dare not tell thou their name, not yet." Gwyndolin explained with a grimace marking her once unshakable stare. "In doing so, I would give them power over thee. And that is what I am absolutely trying to avoid."

"Is this enemy you face truly so grave? Are their enemies left that can threaten Anor Londo?" Quelana inquired skeptically. "Even though the Age of Fire is declining it appears to me that the great city of Gywn has not deteriorated in the least." 'Compared to Izalith at least.' Quelana thought to herself begrudgingly.

Gywndolin smiled appreciatively of her saying so but her smile soon faded back to a grimace. "It appears so…at least." She muttered prompting Quelana to look at her inquiringly. "Tell me, Princess Quelana. Who all did thou meet on thy short tour through the city? Besides my Knights and followers." Gwyndolin asked her pleasantly.

The Pyromancer thought back. She had met the kindly Fire Keeper, and the dutiful Sir Gilmore. But those two were definitely among the Princess's force of knights. The three warriors she saw earlier, though out of place as they seemed, were likely also among Gwyndolin's knights. The two who brought her here, the white clad soldiers, the giant sentinals. All she had met were guards and warriors in service to Anor Londo.

"No one. I did not meet anyone else. I did not…see anyone else." Her heart sank at the realization that this was the answer the young god had expected. She saw no lords, no demi-god citizens of the massive golden city. There was nary a sound when she was brought their either. It was as if the city was…

"I had heard rumors but…I had thought after seeing Anor Londo still in its splendor that they were false."

"They are unfortunately true." Gywndolin sighed. "There now stands only one Lord in all of Anor Londo."

Quelana blinked. "One? But before me stands-." Before the Izalithian could finish, Gwyndolin raised her hand for silence, as did the til now silent Gwynevere behind her.

"Thou hath journeyed far and suffered much to come here. Come to me, child. Let your woes melt away and bask in mine protection, and the protection of Anor Londo."

As one, both sisters spoke the repeated the words spoken to Quelana when she first stepped foot in this chamber but only the warm voice of the queen of Sunlight reached her ears, the pale Princess before her speaking inaudibly…like a ventriloquist controlling a puppet.

"This is the truth." The false Gwynevere continued to speak as the mouth piece of the smaller princess. "This is the length I have gone to keep father's city alive. The secret I have protected. Quite the clever trick, wouldn't thou say?"

"This...is so much to take in." Quelana muttered as she placed a hand to her temple, her still recovering mind unable to keep up with the rush of information. "All this time...how were you able to do it?" Quelana felt both admiration and worry for the Dark Sun. To be able to sustain a city so vast and important as this, alone, while she had merely wallowed in her self pity while watching her doomed city from afar.

"I did what I believed I must. For my people and my heritage." Gwyndolin stated simply as she cast her eyes to the false Gywnevere. "I believe the Age of Fire will rise again and when it does the great city of the Gods shall flourish as it did under my Father's rule. I alone have paved the way for the gods to retake their rightful place in the world. I alone have taken the place of the greatest of the gods in this world. I...alone..." The young lord trailed off as the full weight of her words seemed to reach her.

"Lady Gwyndolin…" Quelana felt oddly compelled to reach out to the young lord, and on that compulsion did her hand rise before the princess turned away, her expression hidden.

"That is enough of that." Qwyndolin stated plainly, her voice returning to the noble and proud tone it had taken when she first appeared to the Pyromancer. "My intentions have been lain plain and there is still much to discuss. Much to prepare for."

"Prepare for?" Quelana inquired.

"Naught since the fall of Izalith has a need for Anor Londo to gather its full strength ever been more imperative."Gywndolin turned back to the Izalithian, her face hard beneath her mask. "It is time I explain to thee how dire the situation in Lordran has become in this last year and why I have deigned to gather as many trusted allies as I could to strengthen our side."

"In short, dear Quelana, Lordran is at war."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"I think…that was the last of them." Patches confirmed uncertainly as he nudged a pile of seeming inanimate bones with his boot. Several more piles like that were currently scattered along either side of the trio of Undead, just as lifeless as they were meant to be.

The moment the three were confident in the effectiveness of the young maiden's weapon, their battle strategy changed from one of desperate defense to a more guerilla like tactic of back and forth assassinations against individual cadavers Vince and Patches would "allow" past their defenses. While the two men kept the vaster hordes busy with their shields and crushing weapons, a moment would come when one of skeletal fiend would attack more predictably than the others, the two warriors would instantly move on these moments. With a well timed parry or inward sweep of their large shields, a skeleton would find itself being forced off balance during its attack and pushed inward away from its compatriots. And in that moment when the lone ghouls were off guard having been singled out, Rhea would pounce! Either smashing down and shattering the warriors or running them through with her thin weapon like a spear, the holy power of the weapon worked its magic and purified the beasts so that they would not stand again. And the three had kept up this strategy for what felt like an hour before finally no more skeletons rose to assail them.

"That's a relief." Vince sighed, pressing his back against the chasm walls as he tried to catch his breath and rest his sore muscles after all the tedious and monotonous amount of combat he just went through.

"Vereor Nox." Rhea gave a prayer to the defiled remains, wishing them peace now that their bodies were no longer the tools of vile magic. Patches gave a snort of skepticism but left his comment unspoken as he too was tired though he didn't seem particularly keen on resting.

"Well, the way I see it. We don't really need to follow my old path since everything not in pieces around here probably already knows we're here." Patches stated as he looked over the ledge of the walkway to the bowl like bottom of the chasm beneath them. "The original plan was to lay low and avoid most of the weaker blighters until we reached the bottom. But since we've wasted so much time up here, we might as well cut our losses and just jump."

"Pardon me?!" Rhea asked in confusion and fear. Vince groaned at the prospect, his muscles still groaning from exertion.

"A leap of faith, if you will?" Patches shrugged as he took a tight hold of his shield and spear and stepped up to the edge. "There's a few other ledges below us. We just drop to them and scale the cliff one big step at a time. Simple, right?" His enthusiasm was not matched by his younger companions. "It's either this or go through more catacombs where those shriveled bastards are prolly raising another army to hunt us down as we speak." More groans from the two as they stood up from their resting positions and joined the scavenger at the ledge.

"Let's get this over with." Vince grumbled as he held tight to his own equipment. Rhea followed suit, but in a flash of epiphany took out her pure white, handkerchief like talisman and whispered out a quick but smoothly stated canticle.

" _Replenishment!"_ She called out as a halo of golden light appeared over her and spread to her two companions who suddenly felt their fatigue recede under the soothing holy light. "That should help numb the pain on the way down." Rhea smiled and Vince smiled back appreciatively.

"Clever girl." Patches complimented, before he realized what he just said and coughed visibly uncomfortable. "Right then, step lively chaps and chickadees, it'll be a bumpy couple a falls down." And with that, the bald scavenger stepped off the side of the ledge, falling downward and out of sight until the two who remained heard a loud impact as the older male hit the lower ledge feet first, groaning as his thighs and lower legs trembled from the still sizable impact with the hard ground.

"M'lady…" Vince offered his hand as the two prepared to follow after their painfully cursing guide. Rhea smile in thanks, taking her long time friend and bodyguard's hand as they walked off the ledge at once.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Gywn's beard!" Vince griped as he fell back onto his haunches while massaging his thighs to quicken the rejuvenating miracles work at numbing the pain of his nearly sprained legs. Rhea was similarly forced to sit and rest while her miracle worked its magic, though she had the control not to shout aloud and merely winced through the pain. Patches on the other hand, due to having reached the bottom a full minute before them and used to such pains due to his former lifestyle, was already back on his feet and looking quite disturbed as he scanned the bowl like chasm they had "spelunked" into. "Simple, he says." Vince continued to grumble, not noticing their guides behavior. "Leap of faith, he called it. Next time I'm gonna make sure I land on-!" The rest of Vince's statement was cut short as the thief practically slid next to him and hissed a low but harsh signal for silence with his finger to his gritted teeth.

"Quiet down, you ninny!" Patches hissed as he continued to search nervously for some yet seen threat. "Just because we can't see those wheely bastards yet doesn't mean they won't be on top of us before you can blink." Vince got the picture as he clamped a hand over his mouth and used his other hand to hasten his legs' recovery even quicker.

"So what do we do?" Rhea asked in a hushed tone as she joined Patches in searching out signs for their more troublesome foes.

"As soon both of you can run again we run are asses straight for that wide crevasse across the way and make for The Tomb." Vince glared at the thief for his coarse language in front the Thorolund noble but couldn't work up the energy to rebuke him.

Vince and Rhea were both on their feet after another minute of rest and just as planned they all sprinted across the bone filled chasm floor like the dreaded Knight of Thorns himself was on their tails all the while glancing every which way at once for signs of more skeletal foes sprouting from the ground or dashing from the shadows to run them down like skeletal wolves. Yet nothing came.

For a time, the trio feared the bone wheel bound skeletons were waiting to ambush them at the entrance into the Giant's Tomb they were heading for, but no such attack came once they reached the crevasse and saw the massive coffin that marked their way in.

"I'll check if the coast is clear up front, you two watch our backs." Patches ordered quietly as he slowly crept to the opening of the colossal coffin with his shield raised. Vince and Rhea didn't need to be told twice as they readied their own weapons and turned to face the way they had come, though Vince constantly glanced back to their black garbed "ally", still refusing to trust the fiend or wishing to let him out of his sight.

The crunching of Patches's boots against the dirt were all the noise they heard for some time as all three undead attended to their own watch. And it was just when they heard Patches's quick intake of breath and his louder more frantic foot-steps heading their way that the two clerics blinked to each other in confusion.

"Back! Back! Back!" He ordered frantically, practically grabbing the two by the arms as he led them out back into the chasm, the prospect of facing wheel skeletons forgotten as a loud crash and an enclosing scarping racket could be heard back at the Tomb's entrance.

"Patches's what's going?!" Rhea cried as they continued to sprint through the open area away from their target destination.

"It moved!" The thief cried fearfully. "Why the hell did it move!?"

"What did?" The answer came to them in the form of a loud crash as an arrow of yellow light sailed over their heads and crashed just feet from where they were heading, knocking them back as a wave of electricity crackled across the area where the bolt struck. The three Undead quickly set to picking themselves up with Patches being the first as he rushed the two clerics onto their feet. Not without need as the scraping they had heard before had suddenly much gotten closer. The two clerics dared a glance to the noise's direction as Patches pulled them to their feet, but when they looked to the crevasse the noise last came from, it was empty and the noise had stopped.

"Look out!" The Cleric's were pushed down this time as the scavenger dived toward them, just as a massive shadow overtook them.

 _ **Crash!**_

A massive figure slammed down onto the spot the three had been standing before Patches's quick rescue, its sheer bulk and size caused the deep chasm to quake with its impact. Patches gulped nervously while his younger compatriots starred on in terror and shock at the monster that had assailed them.

Its body was jet black and had a rough luster to it, like stone. It possessed a muscular, human like physique and would have likely towered over the three if it wasn't missing a leg, forcing it to crawl across the ground using its remaining leg and its free arm to propel it forward and diminishing its height to be only about twice their size. And from there all human semblance ceased as from its back sprouted a long twitching tail and a pair of horns like those of a demon encircling a headless neck inscribed with an ancient sigil. The stone demon effortlessly pulled free its towering claw headed weapon from the ground as it turned to face the stunned group, its headless face not needed to reveal the malice the monster exuded.

"It's usually much deeper in the Catacombs." Patches murmured horrified as the monster prowled its way toward the scarred stiff trio. "Who would have guessed it could pry itself from its hole." Patches's voice and slumping shoulders belied his hopelessness for the situation. The demon may not have been able to catch them in that thin walkway but here in the open it could utilize its full range of motion to easily pounce upon them, no matter where they ran. It seemed the young maiden he had volunteered to guide felt similarly to him as she had suddenly clamped her hands together and started chanting a quiet prayer before her dying moment.

"Vile monster, you'll not have us so easily!" Only the brasher cleric thought otherwise as he held fast to his iron mace and raised his shield in challenge, a pitiful defense in the face of the monstrosity before them. The black garbed undead looked to the younger man and sighed in defeat, taking up his own shield and spear.

'If you can't beat em.' Patches thought as he stepped forward to join the young warrior only to have someone unexpected step ahead of him and then Vince.

"M'lady?!" Rhea stood between her companions and the sliding monster, her hands still at her chest and the murmurs of a prayer still passing her lips. However, to the observant eye and ear, one might notice the pure white cloth clasped between her tightly folded hands and the final words of a psalm recited perfectly from her memory. The demon seemed satisfied with its distance to its nearest prey as it raised its catching pole and brought it around in a mighty arc aimed straight at the white maiden as she unclasped her hands and called out:

" _Expel the malicious!_ _ **Wrath of the Gods**_ _!"_

 _ **KRAKA-THOOOM!**_

The entire world went white for the two men as their fragile seeming companion became the epicenter of a massive typhoon of sound and explosive force that rocked the foundations of the chasm and threatened to knock even them back. But for the demon, the attack was far more catastrophic as it was literally knocked off its foot and sent skidding backwards. The monster slumped forward in apparent agony as the holy might of the Thorolund Cleric's fully recited miracle wracked its stone body. The two Undead had blink to as they took in the sight of their young companion standing tall against the damaged beast. Patches was still in shock while Vince was half a heartbeat from celebrating and praising his lady's valor and quick thinking before the young woman abruptly slumped to her knees and fell to the side on the cold dirt.

"M'lady!"

"Oi, missy!"

The two men rushed to see what ailed their weakened friend only to find her unconscious, still clutching her talisman for dear life but totally exhausted to do much else. Vince attempted to rouse her when they heard the unmistakable scraping start again as the beast recovered enough to begin baring down on them again. It suddenly halted in its march and bent forward, pushing all of its weight on its free arm and good leg. Patche's recognized the stance well enough to know they wouldn't be able to escape it. In a sudden instinct he barely knew he possessed, the thief brought forth his falcon stamped shield and stood in defense of the two clerics, a bead of sweat running down his bald scalp as the monster lurched forward with its pole leading the charge to skewer him.

'The things I do for a friend.' He griped internally and shut his eyes against the inevitable.

 _ **Clang!**_

Yet nothing happened. He didn't feel any massive impact crashing straight through his meager defenses, nor did he feel death coming to claim him once more. Yet he knew he heard the sound of a blow smashing against a shield just like his.

"Looks like I made it in time." A gruff, wolfish voice resounded just in front of the thief prompting him to finally reopen his tightly shut eyes to stare in shock. The demon's attack had been stopped mid way before reaching him by a slab of iron shaped into a shield and wielded by a man built practically twice as thick as the balding man and almost half a foot taller. The man was covered head to toe in thick iron armor colored a dull grey and black that made his powerful build all the more pronounced. The Knight turned his bucket shaped helmet clad head to look back at his speechless fellow Undead. "That wasn't half bad back there, sorry I missed out on all the fun but you seemed like you had it under control till the little miss went down." The Knight seemed barely phased at all by the walking landslide trying to force its way through his defense and almost seemed stunned as the black iron armored warrior easily pushed the demon's catch pole to the side and brought his own weapon to bear.

Vince practically had tears in his eyes, both from relief and frustration as their lost ally brought his massive mockery of a sword down upon the stone beast's shoulder, carving straight into the limb and severing the demon's weaponless limb as if the stone it were made of like butter. "Tarkus you scum sucking, glory hounding, friend abandoning excuse for a Knight! Where the hell have you been?!" Vince knew the friend he now cradled in his arms would gasp at his vulgar tongue, even Patches seemed shocked by insults the cleric heaped on their savior. But the towering Berenike gave a hearty guffaw and readjusted his hold on his shields straps as he tossed it to the ground at Vince's feet.

"I'll explain later, but first…" The faceless demon's trembling posture and the agitated way it swung its staff belied how absolutely livid it was for losing its other arm, a fact the legendary Undead noted with a snicker as he propped his wide bladed great sword across his shoulders with one arm. With the other, the knight undid the straps of his helmet, allowing wild and greasy black hair to fall loose as he tossed the obstructive piece of armor away. "I plan on having a bit of fun with this one." The lack of his helmet revealed a jagged white scar running from both the top and bottom of his eye as well as the wide, almost deranged grin spread across the man's face as he waltzed toward the furious demon the same way he would a small animal. "How about it? One arm and no helmet, that make us even?" The Berenike challenged cockily.

The demon's ire seemed to reach its limit as it pounced forward once more, its pole weapon raised to smash down on the arrogant Undead. Black Iron Tarkus sneered as he took in a mighty breath, stomped one foot forward and heaved his gigantic sword from his shoulder to bring it around in an arc to meet the oncoming pole weapon. The two weapon's clashed in midair, sending out a shock wave and a ringing clang that forced the two men to cover their ears but seemed to also rouse the unconscious Rhea who squinted through a single eye to witness the lone Undead squaring off with the demon and matching it, might for might.

'Thank goodness.' She thought to herself in relief and gave in to her exhaustion once more, drifting off to sleep while the battle raged on despite her.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 **Man, I am sorry this took me so long. For one thing its much longer of a chapter than I wished to write for this fic but what can you do. Besides that, you know how it goes. Procrastination, exhaustion, deficit of attention (nyuk nyuk).**

 **Any who, we got to meet more people and see a softer side of everyone's favorite little lordling, with promises of more plot development to come (I originally wanted to get to that this chapter...but it was dragging on as is).**

 **As always if you have questions or observation, please feel free to pm me and send all your rage and flames to my reviews (considering how apeshit I went in this update, I'd expect that more.).**

 **I do not own Dark Souls.**

 **Also, to the observant; yes the titles given to Ricard are in fact the same ones devised for him in the fic "Why Can't I Just Take the Ring After I Fight Artorias?" by Gensh. If you're seriously wasting time on my fic go read his story instead and know true entertainment associated with this series devised to make us rage from defeat. The guy's super cool and his fic is currently the most popular Souls story on the site (seriously if your coasting this archive for DS fics then you should have at least heard of it.)**

 **Til next time my friends.**


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